


Original Powers

by Robin4



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Season 3B, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Post-Episode: s03e11 Going Home, Rumplestiltskin as the Sorcerer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 64
Words: 319,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin4/pseuds/Robin4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin’s curse breaks when he stabs Pan, but when one darkness falls, another rises.  Enter the Black Fairy as the power behind the Witch.   This is the price to be paid—war in the Enchanted Forest that our heroes may not be able to win.  Now Rumplestiltskin must play a more dangerous game than ever before. One where the rules keep changing...and nothing will ever be the same again.</p><p>AU post 3x11.</p><p>Winner of Best Drama and Best OC in the 2016 TEAs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Origins

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first foray into the OUAT fandom--and I promise it will be more than just a textbook entry once it gets going. :) My goal, of course, will be to finish this story off before the show comes back in March, so expect fairly consistent updates and lots of our favorite characters appearing.

**_“What has to be done has a price.  A price I am finally willing to pay.”_ **

****

**_Prologue—“Origins”_ **

****

            Belle found the book long before she knew it was important.  Four months after their return to the Enchanted Forest, not long after their retreat from Snow White’s kingdom, she found the old and worn book underneath a pile of debris and rubbish, and being Belle, she picked it up and began reading.  The title on well-worn spine was hard to decipher, and the title page had been ripped out centuries before, but had Belle been able to find it, the title would have been _An Abridged Historie of the Formation of Magic_ by Lucius Apuleius Madaurensis.

            The book was a surprisingly thin tome for one with such an imposing title, and drier than dirt, but she came back to it time and again over the next few weeks.  Doing so made for good distraction.  The Dark Castle bustled with activity these days, but it was no longer _home._   Home was the quiet creaking of the spinning wheel, was Rumplestiltskin’s experiments gone wrong and his sudden appearances, all giggles and lonely smiles after making a deal.  Or, home was an obnoxiously pink three story house in a town where no one understood, the thump of a cane on polished hardwood floors, and a genuine smile that was only for her.

            Regina’s reversal of the curse had brought both spinning wheels back, though everyone avoided the one in the Great Hall and no one but her went up to the tower that Rumplestiltskin had once used for his work room.  The Wicked Witch’s armies had forced their forces to retreat so many times that the Dark Castle had become their last refuge, a fortress from which to attack the forces of evil and hopefully to someday take back their lands.  Their own allies were a motley crew, to be certain, from Robin Hood’s men (already in residence when Belle and her companions arrived) to the Evil Queen and various other royals, not to mention their followers.  There were thousands of them there, now, with more refugees pouring in by the day, and Belle was usually too busy to grieve properly.

            Whenever she dropped out of the day to day whirl of trying to manage everything and keep everyone alive, she retreated to Rumplestiltskin’s tower to read.

            Technically, the castle belonged to Baelfire—who no longer bothered to call himself Neal Cassidy, not in this world—but he’d made it adamantly clear that the Dark Castle was as much Belle’s as his.  Together they’d come to a sort of unspoken agreement, in which she wasn’t quite his stepmother but was most assuredly the woman his father had loved, and that was enough.  It was certainly enough to make him bring down his considerable temper upon anyone who even _thought_ about disturbing Belle when she needed time away from them all, no matter how dire their need.  So, that day she flipped the old book open to a new chapter.

 

_ Origins _

_In the beginning, there were merely elemental powers, called “demons” by later generations.  These powers were beyond conscious control, although later magic users would learn to harness, target, and slay them.  Various cultures have referred to them as shadows, spirits, ghost, angels, or the incubus, but they are beings of pure elemental power.  Each embodies that which they are, and consume the opposite.  However, that which they consume can also poison them in surfeit._

_Six different types of elemental “demons” existed at the beginning, one for each of the six magical elements: fire, earth, water, wind, light, and dark._

_Fairies sprang into existence next, by which means is now lost to history.  Like the elemental demons, they were originally divided.  As beings of pure magic, their classification was simple: light and dark, or, more appropriately, right and wrong.  Of these there were two original powers, the Blue Fairy (Reul Ghorm) and the Black Fae (real name unknown).  For a time the two original fairies lived in harmony, providing balance to their order and to their world, each opposite reflections of the same power.  But as differences developed between the two, other fairies began to choose a side in the conflict between _Reul Ghorm_  and the Black Fae.  In time, the darker fairies came to call themselves “the Fae” for their leader._

_As this conflict began, humans gained magic, but humans are infinitely more complicated than fairies.  They could not so easily be defined as light/dark, good/evil, or even right/wrong.  So there were four original powers amongst them, magical beings who were each able to work good or evil magics with incredible power.  These four were both old and wise, and some say that they were born of unions between humans and the incubus, but their origins have also been lost to history._

_Humans being humans, however, they wanted more.  And so the War began.  By the end, only one of the human elemental powers remained, the one who had allied himself with both Original Fairies in hopes of keeping the War from devastating all life within every realm.  He was called the Merlin, and was accounted as a great hero by humans and fairies alike.  Of his three onetime companions, two were slain in the War, both by power hungry humans who shared their great powers amongst them, creating the first of the lesser sorcerers and the first human magic users outside of the original four powers.  The last was slain by _Reul Ghorm_ herself when Circe attempted to establish ascendancy over all of the realms._

_Legend says that the Black Fae was there to save her sister from certain death after the battle, in which Circe—whose power was near equal to that of _Reul Ghorm_  and her cunning humanely fierce—nearly drove the Kris Dagger into the heart of the Blue Fairy, but no accounts of the battle survived, and _Reul Ghorm_  never spoke of it again.  The alliance between the Fairies and the Fae persisted for some time after the final battle, however, which lends credence to this rumor._

_Circe’s power was broken with her death, left to be absorbed by magical beings and human magical users.  The original elemental “demons” however, also absorbed some of that power, as such power always comes at a price.  And so the demons multiplied, leaving four of each element.  Over the intervening years, fairies, fae, the Merlin, sorcerers, and magical users hunted, trapped, and killed as many as they could find lest the others lay waste to the Enchanted Forest.  In the end, only a handful remained, though there would always be discrepancies between the number of demons whose slayings could be confirmed and those who remained alive._

_By the dawn of the final Fae/Fairy split, only one wind, three fire, two water, and three dark elemental demons remained.  The one slain Dark Elemental Demon was supposedly eliminated by the Black Fae, and although there were no witnesses, only three have been identified in the centuries since that supposed battle._

_The War, however, also created the Secondary Powers: the Greater Dragon, the King of the Ogres, the Twice Minotaur, Pegasus, Genies, and Ursula along with other assorted “gods”.  The widespread use—and reckless distribution, in the killing of the two original human powers, inadvertently created numerous magical objects.  Others were created for use during the war by the original powers themselves.  These objects included the Janus Stone, the Yellow Star, Circe’s Dagger, the Staff of Time, the Equal Glass, and others.  Legends indicate that the giants were first able to plant magic beans following the conflict, as their seeds had been enhanced by the massive release of magic._

_These objects were scattered amongst magic beings and magic users, although legend persists that some of them are powerful enough to slay one of the original powers._

_Four centuries after the War, the final split between the Fairies and Fae occurred.  Although the Black Fae (commonly known as the Black Fairy by this date) had once acted as a counterbalance to the Blue Fairy, maintaining an equilibrium in both magic and in the nature of the world itself, she struck away from their shared order.  Seeking power for herself and weary of creating happy endings for others, the Black Fairy decided to make her own way and ensure her power, and that of her followers, remained intact._

_She tricked and trapped the Merlin, though he had once been her friend.  Isolating him from the world, she bound him to darkness and exposed his soul, forcing it to intertwine with the dark elemental demon which she had trapped centuries earlier.  That done, she bound his soul, the demon, and his magic to Circe’s Dagger.  Using the dagger, the Black Fairy was able to command obedience from the remaining original human power, but still she was not satisfied._

_Holding the Merlin captive for countless years, she warped him and changed him.  In darkness she tortured him, and in darkness he endured, until nothing of his humanity remained.  When her work was complete, the Fairy loosed her new creature on the world, a being of rage, pain, and fury who would stop at nothing to make others suffer.  Yet, knowing the soul of the man who she had trapped, she created one last safeguard.  This new creature would be unable to take his own life, and when he found someone so dark and desperate as he to do the deed, the powers and the curse would pass to this new creature, providing the Black Fairy with a new servant._

_The curse, of course, was not unbreakable.  No curse is.  But the Black Fairy knew her work.  In the unlikely event that such an evil, shredded, and tormented soul would ever find True Love, she built the curse to resist the pull of even…_

 

            “That’s horrible,” Belle whispered to herself, turning the page and finding that the rest of the section was missing.  Moments later, however, her disappointment was forgotten when Regina’s voice echoed throughout the castle, and another attack began.

 

****************

            Elsewhere, whilst her creatures attacked the Dark Castle, the Wicked Witch of the West stood face to face with a taller woman. The castle she occupied had once belonged to Queen Regina, as had the gorgeous gown of black silk and lace she wore. Both were a conscious choice, meant to infuriate the Evil Queen, although the Witch intended to do far worse by the time she was done. Her companion, however, was wreathed in shadows, her face and form hidden from view, but the Witch watched her warily, clearly trying to conceal nerves behind a smile.

            “My patience has limits,” the Witch said cautiously.

            A pale white hand waved lightly, black and silver cloth of a sleeve sweeping gracefully. “All in good time. You will have the revenge you seek, Zelena.”

            “I would prefer to do things my way,” the green-skinned woman grated out, glaring.

            “No. Magic is different in the town they call Storybrooke, despite my servant having brought power to the Land Without Magic. It would not serve my purposes.”

            “You have said—”

            “Earthly power is of no concern to me. You _shall_ have what you wish,” the other cut her off, the ethereal voice hardening enough to make the Witch flinch slightly. “In good time. Now play your games and enjoy your war. I will do the rest.”

            She did not need to voice a threat. Zelena was no fool, and would not press. Instead, the Witch swept into a graceful curtsey, signifying her submission to a power far greater than herself. By the time she rose, the other woman had vanished.

 

****************


	2. Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year into the war against the Wicked Witch, Belle decodes a message indicating that a magical item of immense power is being hidden in the small town of Bremen. So, she, Regina, Robin and his merry men set out to find it while Charming and Baelfire try to take the fight against the Witch herself.

**_Chapter 1 ** _ ** _—_**_** "Going Home"_ **

 

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” David pointed out, looking dubiously at Robin, who stood next to Regina with his arms crossed stubbornly. 

“Look, Your Highness”—the honorific sounded a tad sarcastic coming from the outlaw who was busy romancing the Evil Queen who might or might not be considered “Prince” Charming’s stepmother-in-law.  Robin never called the Prince (who was technically a King) that unless he was trying to wheedle something out of him, either—“Regina is right.  If there _is_ someone else behind the Wicked Witch, we need to know it.  Trust me.  I’ve been dealing with the Witch while you lot were off playing house in Storybrooke, and she’s bad enough by herself.  If she’s getting her marching orders from someone else, we need to know who it is.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” David replied, heaving a sigh.  “It’s just that this plan of yours is _risky_ , and we can’t afford to lose any more people.  We’ve _finally_ managed to meet the Witch’s forces head on, and we can’t afford to divert our resources from that course.  Even now, Mulan’s army is starting to regain territory in the south, and one more push might just free our first kingdom from the Witch’s grasp.”

“So push her.  I’m proposing a small force going in to take just _one_ town away from these people.  So what if they have magical beasts guarding the place?  Regina can deal with them.  I won’t even take Baelfire this time.  You can have him.”

“Gee, _thanks_ , Robin.” From Belle’s left, Baelfire shot his friend a dirty look.  Despite the odd manner of their meeting, Rumplestiltskin’s son really had it off with the man his father had once started flaying alive, and they made an almost unstoppable team.  “Glad to know you’re so generous.”

But Baelfire had _also_ turned into one of their best generals, a point even the royals acknowledged after Baelfire had pulled Prince Thomas’ forces out of trouble one too many times.  Masterful strategy was apparently something that ran in the family, although everyone was careful not to comment upon such things in Belle’s hearing.  They all thought she was still fragile and heartbroken, even if a year had passed.  She still thought they were crazy.

“I’ll go in Bae’s place,” Belle volunteered, shooting her almost-stepson a shut-up look when he started to object.  “Robin’ll need another sword, and the castle’s as secure as it’s going to get.  You don’t need me here for that.  Snow can handle things without me.”

“Someone still has to go fetch Miss Swan,” Hook spoke up before Charming could argue or Robin could agree.  “Now that the Blue Fairy has managed to create a pathway we can use to travel tothe Land Without Magic _and_ back, she belongs here.  With her family.”

No one bothered to pretend that Baelfire—still Neal, Belle supposed, where Emma was concerned—didn’t throw Hook a furious look for that remark.  A year hadn’t cooled either of their feelings concerning the Charmings’ daughter, and everyone knew Hook was burning to be the one that was sent after Emma and Henry.  He’d only been arguing the point for months.

There were times Belle felt like volunteering for _that_ job just to keep both of the foolish men in check, but there was no way anyone would agree to that idea.  Now, however, Bae surprised her by grinning.

“I guess you get the job,” he said to Hook with a painfully familiar smirk, then turned to David.  “Since you need me to lead armies, and Hook _sucks_ at strategy, he’s nominated.”  He looked back at the pirate.  “Just don’t screw it up.  Bring Emma and my kid back safely.”

Hook, to his credit, only bristled a little.  “I will do my best.”

“That’s all anyone can ask,” Snow interjected, heavily pregnant and looking tired.  Usually, she was the peacemaker in these rabid war councils, but lately Belle had found herself filling that role more and more.  The pregnancy really was eating away at the usually fiery princess (queen?), and Belle felt terrible for focusing on the negative aspects instead of her own envy.

Back in Storybrooke, Snow had implied to Emma that going back without her and Henry wouldn’t be a happy ending for her parents, but even with the war on, they seemed blissful enough.  Belle didn’t begrudge anyone their happiness, of course, but sometimes it _burned_ to be shut up in a castle with so many True Love couples.  Between Snow and Charming, Grumpy and Astrid, Thomas and Ella, Philip and Aurora, and even Abagail and Fredrick before the pair had set off with Midas to raise a third army, she found herself dwelling on her own loses far too often.  It wasn’t healthy, and going with Robin on this raid was just what she needed.

“You okay?” Baelfire asked as the others filed out, and Belle tore her eyes away from where Charming laid a protective hand on Snow’s stomach.

“Of course,” she took a deep breath.  “Some days are just better than others.  That’s all.”  Belle forced herself to shrug.  “Are you sure _you’re_ all right with Hook going for Emma?”

He scowled.  “No.  But Hook’ll bring both of them back safely, and if I’m lucky, he’ll make an ass out of himself and piss her off.  And I really am needed here.  Hook couldn’t lead an army if one threw itself at him.”

“At least he’s good in a scrap?”

“ _Robin_ is good in a scrap,” Baelfire corrected her.  “You watch yourself out there, okay?  I think Dad would probably resurrect himself and kill me if I let anything happen to you.”

Belle smiled wistfully, but she didn’t tear up.  Some days _were_ worse than others, but she wasn’t some weepy little princess.  She poked Baelfire in the chest instead and gave him an exasperated look.  “No, if he were here, he’d tell you that no one decides my fate but me.  I’m not going to hide, Bae.  This is my world, too, and I’m going to fight for it.”

****************

_She would rework the curse.  Fragile, human, and without magic, the process should have been simple, though a part of him knew that more time had passed than ought to have passed._

_Fire roared through the left side of his chest, and he screamed weakly in pain.  He convulsed, but the chains holding him were too tight, and his body barely moved.  Everything burned, and then darkness tore into him, racing through every muscle and every bone, tearing, ripping, slashing into his soul.  He screamed again, helplessly shaking against the onslaught he could not fight._

_Sometime after the darkness finally withdrew, he heard her snarl: “I will have no_ Merlins _here.”_

****************

Hook set out to find Emma and Henry the same day that Robin’s merry brand of marauders left the castle.  Belle supposed that the small group really couldn’t call itself Robin’s merry _men_ any longer; even though Mulan had left to command an army, Regina had more or less taken her place, and now Belle was along for the ride, also.  Not that they were actually riding.  There weren’t enough horses to provide both the army and their raiders with mounts, so they set out on foot.

“There’s something we forgot to mention back at the castle,” Robin said when they stopped for the first night, exchanging a look with Regina that spelled trouble.

“Oh, this should be fantastic,” Alan-a-Dale snorted from where he leaned against a tree, his ankles crossed casually.

Robin, of course, looked her way.  “Lady Belle, do you want to explain?”

“You’re going to have to stop calling me that one of these days,” she pointed out sourly but fondly.

“Not with your father stomping around the castle, my Lady,” was the grinning response, although they both knew that wasn’t the reason.  Sir Maurice—thankfully off with Charming’s army—threw noble suitors and knights at Belle on almost a daily basis, hoping one of them might catch her fancy.  He’d found her and Robin talking quietly one day, and had tried to run the outlaw off, shouting that Robin wasn’t worthy of his daughter.  Belle had tried to explain that she and Robin had met years ago and they were just catching up, but even Robin’s explanation of how she had saved his life didn’t mollify Sir Maurice.

“Oh, because a man who could shoot a half dozen arrows into my father before he could draw his sword is _so_ terrified of him,” Belle shot back.

“My Lady!” Robin gasped, looking offended.  “How could you say such a thing? It would be at least a dozen.”

Their small raiding force laughed, and Belle was glad that her joking with Robin could help break the tension a little bit.  These _were_ Robin’s men, and though they were used to Regina and they all knew Belle, none of them were used to having her along, particularly not without Baelfire to ease things along.  She _was_ the lady of the castle they lived in, more or less, and most of them had started out as peasants of one sort or another.

She imagined that Regina had experienced even more problems fitting in with them at the start, but at least she was a powerful sorceress, with magic that could make an argument for itself.  None of Robin’s men were fools, and only a fool could discount how useful it was to have someone like Regina along, particularly given the nature of this war and just how many magical enemies Regina had slain since their return from Storybrooke.

“Well, I suppose I will explain, so long as you promise that you didn’t pepper my father with arrows before we left,” she said when the laughter died down.

“Cross my heart,” Robin replied jauntily.

Belle took a deep breath, and then turned to the others.  “It actually started with the message you all intercepted last month,” she started.  “I was able to decode it a few days ago, and it concerns the town we are heading towards.”

“They _are_ hiding something there, aren’t they?” Alan asked.

“According to the message, there’s an object of great magical power there,” Belle replied.  “Something that the Witch has been told to send her fiercest creatures to guard.”

Much the Miller’s Son dropped his head into his hands morosely.  “Flying monkeys again.  Great.”

“Flying monkeys and more,” Regina interjected, but _she_ was smiling.  “It sounds like the Witch has also acquired a dragon.”

“A _what_?” several voices demanded at once, but Robin shrugged.

“You hold it still, I’ll kill it,” he said to Regina with a cheeky smile.  “I’ve always wanted to be a dragonslayer.”

Regina’s laugh always made her look years younger.  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Is _that_ why you raided my squid ink supplies?” Belle had to interject, not sure when they’d become _hers_ , but still wanting to know the answer.

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Regina replied, abashed.

“You could just ask next time,” Belle pointed out.

“My apologies.”

Taking a deep breath, Belle nodded.  Regina’s words were a bit stiff, but the remorse was genuine; although the pair would probably never like one another, they’d formed an odd type of understanding over the last year.  Aside from Belle and Baelfire, Regina had known Rumplestiltskin better than anyone, and she mourned him, too.  Belle wasn’t quite able to forgive Regina for tricking her and then locking her up, but she could move past that.  Regina was their best hope for defeating the Witch, after all.  They needed her.

Particularly because the fairies weren’t being very helpful, unless you counted Tinkerbelle, who spent more time at the Dark Castle than she did wherever the rest of the fairies called home.  Astrid was off with Grumpy and the army, of course, but she seemed to have given up on being a fairy, period.  Tinkerbelle had offered to teach her—over the Blue Fairy’s objections, of course—but Astrid (who no longer went by Nova at all) had refused.  And the other fairies had followed Blue off to whatever stronghold they had, there to do, well…something.  Belle wasn’t sure what, and it was irritating that the fairies no longer felt they had a stake in the war just because they had somewhere safe to go.

“So,” Belle continued brightly.  “Whatever this object is, we need to acquire it or destroy it.  From what the message said, it might even be one of the Secondary Powers, and _that_ means that it could be used to kill the Witch.  Maybe it could even work against whatever or _whoever_ it is who is backing her.”

 “So, what you’re saying is that killing the flying monkeys and a bloody _dragon_ could possibly win us this war,” Little John said after everyone gave her words a moment to sink in.  “Assuming we can fetch whatever you want us to fetch.”

“Pretty much.”

“But we have no idea what this object is,” Tuck pointed out.  “Do we?”

Belle smiled crookedly.  “Not a clue.  I mean, I know what some of the Secondary Powers _are_ —I found a book on them—but I won’t know until we’re there.  I did bring the book.”

“I can help,” Regina volunteered unexpectedly.  “If there is an object of such power being hidden in Bremen, I can find it.  After we’re done with the dragon, of course.”

The smile she gave Robin was radiant, and Belle wondered if Regina knew enough about magic to combine her hair with the outlaw’s and find out if there was yet _another_ True Love pair in the castle.  The way Tinkerbelle watched them and the way the Blue Fairy frowned indicated that this might actually _be_ True Love, despite the fact that the Blue Fairy seemed determined to argue that no redemption was possible once darkness started to consume a person.  Belle, however, knew differently, and Regina deserved happiness.  She had waited long enough, and sacrificed enough.

Somehow, she thought even Rumplestiltskin would be happy for his old student.

****************

 _He thought he was in a cellar.  The wall they chained him to was cold and damp, and the persistently murky smell screamed ‘underground’ like nothing else did.  Blindfolded more often than not, he had no concept of time.  The last he had seen of daylight was before they threw him into the darkness.  The only light he saw now came when torches strayed too close to his face; they burned the blindfold off once while he screamed in pain.  Someone had healed him after that, but the magic had an odd flavor to it, one he could not recognize.  Someone_ else _muttered that the wounds should have killed him had he been human, but no one noticed the muffled sound of mixed amusement and befuddlement he made from behind the gag._

 _From the first, they’d asked for nothing and brought only pain.  Only_ she— _the woman whose face was a blur in his memory from the pain—actually spoke to him, and what she wanted made no sense.  There was something about a curse and the scar on his chest, and both references made him want to laugh and tell the torturers how stupid they were._

 _By time ticked by, and everything_ hurt _.  The constant onslaught of darkness and pain robbed him of most of his coherent memories; images drifted by sometimes, not all of which made sense.  The flashes of memory were disjointed, disconnected.  He remembered darkness, death, fury and lashing out until the entire world burned with his pain.  He remembered tricks and traps and trying so very hard to do_ better _, failing all the while.   He remembered a battle, a great War in which the nature of magic itself changed, remembered betrayal and pain and sacrifice—_

_And love.  He remembered love, too._

_Buried beneath centuries of rage, power, and pain, there was love.  Flickering against the darkness, there remained a small light.  He could hardly recall feeling it, but it was there, somewhere, just on the edge of his consciousness.  And when the pain grew too great he clung to it, holding tightly to that feeling while he screamed and sobbed, all the while unable to remember why._

****************

“Y’know, I’m starting to think that this bunch of ogres is nothing more than a distraction,” Baelfire said to David, keeping his tone conversational.  The last thing their threadbare army needed was for their leaders to start sounding panicked; if there was anything Bae had learned from painful experience, it was if the leadership started to be afraid, the army would quickly turn from brave to terrified, and there was almost no coming back from that.

There were many reasons Prince Thomas had been relegated to commanding the reserves, and his inability to keep his own fears under control were certainly high on the list.  Oh, he cut a pretty figure in armor and his daddy the king was undoubtedly proud, but the boy was something of a nervous ninny.  If there was anything Bae hated more than playing the Enchanted Forest status game, it was doing it with someone who couldn’t man up enough to take care of his own responsibilities.  Granted, Prince Thomas admittedly still held a grudge over the minor inconvenience of Bae’s father having demanded his and Ella’s firstborn, but that really wasn’t a convincing reason for Thomas to have been quite so overbearing.

_Maybe Belle was right.  Maybe I could have been more diplomatic, but the boy’s an idiot, and he got dozens killed by his little freakout.  Being royalty doesn’t absolve him for his mistakes, and so what if I knocked him unconscious and took command?  It was almost a year ago, and it’s not like I left him to rot on the battlefield._

“They seem pretty convincing to me,” David remarked, sitting relaxed on his own horse as they surveyed the battlefield.  Sometimes thinking of the fact that this man was Emma’s _father_ was absolutely surreal, but Baelfire _liked_ David.  He respected him enormously, too, which was why he went to great pains not to respond to this prince like he would have if Thomas had said something so inane.

“Well, they wouldn’t be a very good distraction if they didn’t,” he replied with a twisted smile.   David snorted, and Bae waved a hand at the archers who were attempting to take out the dozens of ogres.  “But look at them.  They’re…kind of staying in one spot.  Like they have something to hide.”

David nodded immediately.  “Or like they’re trying to buy time.  While our entire army sits here and waits for the archers to clear the ogres out of the way.”

“Exactly.”  _This_ was why he liked David.  The man had a first-rate brain, particularly when it came to battles.  Bae wasn’t sure when or how he’d grown quite so comfortable with armies and warfare, but it all made _sense_ to him, and he made an even better team with David than he did with Robin.  David handled the tactical end while Baelfire looked at the big picture, and together they generally managed to win battles instead of losing, even when they were at the wrong end of three-to-one odds like they usually were. 

“What are you thinking?”

He scratched his goatee absentmindedly.  “Honestly, I was just thinking about how much I want to know what’s on the other side of that ridge.” 

Emma’s father snorted again.  “The one right behind the ogres.  Naturally.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be much fun otherwise, would it?” Bae shot back, making David roll his eyes.  But the prince _did_ start passing orders to his senior officers, and before long, the army started making its way around the ogres and into the valley beyond them.

Three hours later, they finished off the _real_ battle, having interrupted the Witch’s forces whilst they were in the midst of setting up the second best trap Bae had ever seen, complete with flying monkeys and what would have been a well-positioned ambushing force if Bae hadn’t brought the cavalry around into their flank before the Witch’s archers could finish digging in.  Not long after that, the false retreat he led suckered the Witch’s griffins—her main attacking force, one they’d been trying to destroy for _months_ —straight into the _best_ trap Baelfire had ever created (or seen), and burned the lot up with some well-placed fire arrows.  The oil they’d soaked the ground in the night before ignited immediately, filling the valley with flames and death.

A few flying monkeys managed to escape the inferno, but most of the Witch’s best army burned to a cinder, and if David looked a little nauseous after the battle, well, that was the breaks.  Even if Emma chose Hook, Baelfire was damn well going to make sure that Henry had a safe world to come back to, and that meant killing the enemy before the enemy could kill them.  He’d dedicate his life to that goal, if that was what it took, and have no regrets whatsoever.  Oddly enough, Regina understood that better than anyone else.  That was why she was off doing everything she could to defeat the Wicked Witch while Hook fetched Emma and Henry.  They both wanted Henry to be safe, even if it was with someone else.

“Where _did_ you learn this?” David asked him quietly as they watched the fires burn themselves out. 

Baelfire shrugged.  “It was either video games or figuring out how to outsmart Pan in Neverland.  Pick one.”

“I think being a tricky son of a gun must run in your family tree,” the prince replied after a moment, smiling.  “Henry certainly got that from you, anyway.”

“Yeah.”  Thinking of family was still damn complicated, particularly while living in his father’s castle with the woman who his father had loved, and with his son stuck in a world that Neal Cassidy had tried so hard to make his own.  _Not to mention the fact that I’m in love with a_ princess _, who is the actual heir to not one but_ two _kingdoms once we straighten this mess out._

It was probably a good thing that Emma hadn’t been there during the last year.  She would have punched out a half-dozen of the self-important lordlings and knights would have undoubtedly tried to charm their way into her heart, and then maybe shot them for good measure.  But oh how he would have _paid_ to see that.  Bae missed her more than words could describe.  Although Emma hadn’t really been back in his life for very long, and he’d spent more time missing over the years than he had actually spent with her, thinking of her made his heart ache.  Shaking himself free of those thoughts, Bae forced his attention back onto Emma’s father.

“He’s a good kid,” Bae said hoarsely, hoping and praying that the Witch hadn’t found a way through to endanger Emma and Henry.  “A _great_ kid.  Even if he’s got the craziest family tree ever.”

David laughed.  “Well, I’m actually a shepherd and not royalty at all, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Really?” He hadn’t heard that one before.

“Oh, yeah.  Sheep and all.”

“Well, maybe someday I’ll show you the village I grew up in,” Baelfire replied, his eyes on one of the dead ogres.  “Assuming it’s still there.”

“Be careful what you promise,” David warned him with a grin.  “I might take you up on that.  It might be nice to see somewhere normal.” 

“Funny.  I’m not sure what normal is any more, to be honest.” 

Normal.  Had he once had a normal life, the child of a crippled spinner and a woman who wanted out so badly that she ran away with a pirate?  Baelfire barely remembered _normal_ , despite the fact that his memories of Hamlin sometimes seemed so fresh that he might have left yesterday.  More than two and a half centuries had passed since his real childhood.  Who would have thought he’d wind up here, commanding armies and sharing jokes with a king?  No matter what David wanted to call himself, the man clearly wasthe most powerful king in the entire Enchanted Forest; he and Snow White were the leaders everyone turned to, even the older monarchs. 

Dirt poor thirteen year old Balefire would have never imagined himself in this position, not when he’d been certain that he’d die doing his duty in the Ogre Wars.  He hadn’t wanted to die then, but he’d wanted to fight, and a part of him had been irrationally angry at his father for years because he’d never gotten the chance.  _Well, I’ve seen plenty of battles and ogres now,_ he thought with a crooked smile.  _It’s not nearly as glorious as I thought it would be, and now I’m doing it for entirely different reasons_.  These days Bae understood his father better than ever before; all he wanted was to make sure that Henry didn’t have to fight these battles, and that his son would have a safe world to grow up in.

Sometimes, he supposed, fate really did have a rotten sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go! Stay tuned for Chapter 2: “Traps Come in Pairs,” in which Belle, Regina, Robin and company find something no one expects in Bremen and Baelfire tries to save idiot royals from themselves.


	3. Traps Come in Pairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Belle, Regina, and Robin find the unexpected in Bremen, and Baelfire tries to save royals from themselves.

**_Chapter Two—“Traps Come in Pairs”_**  

“That’s the mark of the Black Fairy.” 

Belle’s head snapped around; Regina’s voice sounded like it came from beyond the grave, and when she caught sight of the other woman’s face, she saw a stricken expression that she had not seen since the day Regina had to let Henry go.  The Queen and Robin had finished off the dragon while Little John led Belle and the others into battle against the flying monkeys and other guards on the small town of Bremen, but Regina had returned to help with the prisoners.  Having a sorcerer along generally seemed to cow captured guards and townspeople into submission, and since Belle didn’t want to hurt anyone they didn’t have to, Regina’s presence was extremely useful.  Of course, Regina’s methods could still sometimes use a bit of work—that fireball hadn’t missed the sheriff by much—the townsfolk were now separated from the hired guards and hopefully providing Alan-a-Dale with useful information. 

Some of them probably needed to change their undergarments after Regina’s little display, but Belle supposed that was minor enough damage.  Still, she shot the older woman a scowl as she came over to stand next to her, just on principle. 

Thankfully, the mark wasn’t on any of the _people_ ; instead it was on the side of one of the few stone buildings the town boasted of.  The building was built low to the ground and completely made of stone, from the sloping roof to the walls themselves.  Only the door was made of wood, heavily reinforced with iron and a sizeable lock.  The mark was carved into the stone to the immediate right of the door, less than a foot tall and at eye level.  It was a simple symbol, looking like two of the upside down letter “V”, with an arrow drawn through the middle of both, pointing to the left.  The mark was vaguely familiar, but Belle couldn’t remember having seen it anywhere outside a book. 

“Are you certain?” Robin asked Regina, as Belle started digging through her bag. 

Regina grimaced.  “Unfortunately.  One of the most important things anyone who uses magic learns is to avoid anything with _that_ on it.  Even if you’re playing with Dark Magic, it’s not worth toying with something of hers.” 

“Then why would it be here?” Robin stepped up to study the mark more closely, scowling.  “Hasn’t the Black Fairy been dead for hundreds of years?” 

“Of course,” Belle answered, searching through the old book for the right page, just as Regina replied: 

“Dead is negotiable when you’re talking about fairies.  Particularly _that_ fairy.” 

“Dead is _dead_ ,” Robin objected.  “Isn’t it?” 

“No.  _History_ says she’s dead, but Tinker Bell said that the Blue Fairy only exiled her.  That means she’s out there somewhere, presumably unable to reach our world,” Regina replied, stepping up next to Robin to run a hand over the mark, just inches away from touching the stone.  “But there have been…sightings over the centuries.  People who claim these marks appear for no reason, and that creatures that only the Black Fairy could control are still doing her bidding.  She still has followers.” 

Belle found the right page, and bit her lip.  “It’s the right mark,” she said quietly. 

“I did tell you.” Regina shot her a glare, but there was no actual rancor behind the expression.  “And it’s new.  This mark…it’s about a year old.” 

“How is that possible?” Robin asked. 

Regina rolled her eyes.  “Well, someone obviously put it here.  The question is why.” 

“Has anyone thought to ask what became of the Black Fairy’s wand when your curse hit?” Belle asked as the thought suddenly occurred to her.  “It was in the shop, but…” 

Her eyes met Regina as the Queen twisted to face her, and Belle could feel their hearts do a synchronized stutter.  The Witch was enough of a threat.  The last thing they needed was for someone to have gotten ahold of the Black Fairy’s wand and to be trying to bring _her_ back from wherever the Blue Fairy had exiled her to.  Regina was certain that she could beat the Witch, but if even the Blue Fairy had proven unable to actually _kill_ the Black Fairy, what could mere humans do against her?  Belle had read the Black Fairy’s section in her book months ago, and there was maddeningly little information on the evil “Fae”, but nothing she remembered was in any way good. 

“That could be a problem,” Regina breathed.  Belle could only nod, her throat tight.  Robin, however, cleared his throat. 

“So…not to interrupt the academic discussion here,” the outlaw said diffidently, “but do we want to go in the little stone house, or not?  I’m presuming that whatever magical item we came here for is probably in there, given that the place has a ‘keep out’ sign and all.” 

Belle had almost forgotten about their actual mission.  “Can you tell if it’s there?” she asked Regina, who shook her head. 

“The entire building is heavily shielded with magic like I’ve never seen before.  Although…it does seem to be more focused on keeping something _in_ rather than keeping us out.  I can probably open the door.” 

“Oh, that’s an idea, love.  Open the magically sealed door when we have no idea what’s inside it.”  But Robin grinned, slinging his bow off of his shoulder and notching an arrow.  “I’m game.  Open away.” 

Regina glared.  “Can you _ever_ be serious?” 

“I can only be so flippant because I have the most beautiful sorcerer in the world at my side.” 

“You only say that because my skin isn’t _green_ ,” Regina shot back, and Belle snickered despite herself.  Listening to the constant battle of wits between Robin and Regina was entertainment all in itself, and she really _was_ glad that Regina had found someone sharp enough to keep up with her.  However, they were wasting time.  Sunset would occur in an hour or so, and their plan called for them to leave Bremen before darkness fell.  Robin and his men always argued that the woods were safer than any town after dark, and after traveling with them for two weeks on the way there, Belle had to admit that they knew their business well. 

“So,” she started pointedly.  “Are we going to open this door or not?  This _is_ likely why we came here in the first place.” 

“My vote’s already in for opening it, but Regina’s the door-woman,” Robin replied.  “Your call, love.” 

“You always use that word like you want something,” Regina groused, but Belle could see the laughter in her eyes.  Then she shrugged.  “Why the hell not?  My list of enemies is depressingly short these days, anyway.” 

Without further comment, Regina raised her hands and went to work.

 

****************

 

“I still think that this is the mother of all bad ideas.” 

David shot him an exasperated look, and Baelfire sighed.  There were times when he found Prince Charming to be entirely too good, honorable, and trusting—and _this_ moment clearly defined them all.  Baelfire was all for keeping his word, but depending upon an enemy to do the same thing was just plain stupid. 

“Look, if the Witch is asking to parley, that means we’re really getting somewhere,” David pointed out for the fourth time.  Baelfire resisted the urge to growl. 

“Or it means she just wants an easy way to kill you,” he replied.  Again.  

“If she tries to kill those she’s meeting with under a flag of truce, no one will ever meet with her again,” their leader said stubbornly.  “The Witch _knows_ that, which is why she’ll be there to talk.” 

“Am I seriously the only one here who can think like a bad guy?” Baelfire asked plaintively, glancing helplessly at the assembled group of _good_ and _honorable_ fighters.  Prince Thomas looked offended, of course.  Mulan was thoughtful, but shared David’s stubborn sense of honor, so she was no help.  Fredrick, newly arrived while Midas was still recruiting, looked like he thought Baelfire was crazy (and possibly far beneath his social station).  Abigail, holding his hand, looked like she might actually agree with Baelfire’s point of view, but certainly didn’t speak up.  

This time he did groan.  “I guess I am.  Well, then, since Regina isn’t here to put this bluntly to you, I’ll do it.  The Witch doesn’t have to play by the rules, and she _won’t._   She wants to decapitate the resistance, and that means you.” Pointing a finger at David, he continued:  “We might have destroyed her main army, but the Witch has plenty more creatures where these came from.  She has no _reason_ to negotiate honorably.  And even more importantly, she’s a _witch_.  We’re kind of short on magic users at the moment, and Regina’s not here to take her down if she gets frisky.  I say you ignore the invitation and we go find another one of her armies to beat up on.” 

“If we refuse to open negotiations now, the Witch might never be willing to talk again,” Thomas replied, and Baelfire tried not to cross his arms impatiently as the younger man went on: “That’s how honorable war is conducted, and any parley will only work to our advantage.  Our men need time to rest and recuperate.” 

“Thomas is right,” David cut in before Baelfire could say something he was afraid he wouldn’t regret.  “Any time that we buy with negotiations will only help us.” 

 _Unless you wind up dead,_ he managed to resist the urge to say.  Thankfully, Abigail spoke up: 

“Baelfire does have a point,” she interjected calmly.  “We all know that evil doesn’t fight fair, and the Witch _does_ have every reason to want you dead, David.” 

“I’m not that important.” 

Abigail chuckled softly.  “Then why ask for you by name?” 

“Because she wants to keep us off balance?” David replied dubiously. 

“Because she’s got a spy or two in our army, I’m sure.”  This time, Baelfire couldn’t stop the comment from coming out, and got to watch Thomas and Frederick bristle as a reward. 

 _Please don’t tell me that our people would never betray us.  Frightened people do ridiculously stupid things to keep their family and friends safe_.  Baelfire had learned a lot about fear and intimidation in Neverland, and he knew that even old friends from Storybrooke might turn into deadly enemies if the stakes got high enough here in the Enchanted Forest.  Sometimes, the ridiculously honorable royals were such…well, _fairytale_ characters.  He had to suppress a smile at that thought. 

“Is that thought _amusing_ to you?” Thomas demanded. 

He sighed.  “No.  Not at all.  None of this is, actually.”  Compared to the fresh faced prince, he felt every one of his two-hundred and sixty-odd years.  But baiting Thomas further would only make the other royals turn on him, so Baelfire transferred his full attention back to David.  “Okay.  You’re determined to go, so fine.  But _I_ get to run the security for our end, and you wear this.” 

Before he’d even finished the last sentence, Baelfire held a golden bracelet out to the prince.  David looked at it curiously. 

“I didn’t know you cared so much, Baelfire.  It’s not even my birthday,” he joked, and as usual, David’s charm broke through the tension.  Even Thomas chuckled a little. 

“It’s a shield of sorts, full of protective spells.  The bracelet is pretty old, but Regina says it should still work fine.  Belle found it when she was cleaning out some old cabinets,” he explained. _And I brought it along because I knew you’d do something crazily stupidly honorable sooner or later,_ he didn’t need to add.  Charming clearly saw him thinking it. 

“How long should it give me if she starts throwing magic my way?” David asked, sliding the bracelet onto his left wrist. 

“Anything from a minute to a half an hour.  Regina wasn’t too sure.  It’s not her work.” 

David smiled.  “Well, from what I remember about your father in this world, I’d bet closer to a half an hour, but I’ll be careful.” 

“Always a good idea.”

 

****************

 

“Are you sure about this, Tinker Bell?” Snow asked quietly, trying not to fidget.  The baby was finally quiet, and any movement on her part would undoubtedly change that, so she was doing her best to resist the urge to pace. 

This news _wasn’t_ helping. 

Tinker Bell nodded.  “I know I don’t spend as much time at…home as Blue wants me to, but I do drop by every now and then.  And I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between her and some of the more senior fairies.” 

“What _exactly_ were they saying?” Snow asked, taking a deep breath.  She didn’t want to consider why the Blue Fairy hadn’t shared this information with them, but she was certain that was because the Blue Fairy was even busier than Snow and her allies were.  Still, any news of _another_ enemy had to be important.  The Wicked Witch was quite bad enough. 

“She said that the Black Fairy had escaped her exile while you were all under the curse,” Tinker Bell replied bluntly, and Snow’s stomach dropped out. 

_“What?”_

 

“I know.”  Tink looked ready to be sick.  “The Black Fairy was from before my time, but believe me when I say that she’s bad news.  No one knows how Blue managed to exile her, but _everyone_ knows how powerful she was.  And how evil.” 

Snow sucked in a deep breath.  “So where did the Black Fairy go, then?” 

“No one knows.  Or if she knows, Blue isn’t saying so.”  Tink swallowed, and Snow didn’t like the doubtful look on her face.  Blue _always_ had reasons, and they usually turned out to be very good ones.  “I’m worried, Snow,” the green fairy whispered.  “Something’s happening.  Blue and the others are shutting me out more and more because I’ve chosen to stay with all of you instead of working with them, but they’re preparing for _something_.  And they’re not telling me about it.” 

“I’m sure she’ll let us know in time,” Snow soothed her friend.  

When she’d initially met the abrasive and haunted fairy, she never would have expected Tinker Bell to become a true friend, but this last year had changed so many things about the life Snow White had once expected to have.  The time before that in Storybrooke, both immediately before the curse was broken and the months afterwards, had changed even more, and she knew that she was a far cry from the princess who had warred against Regina.  She was harder, more suspicious, and stronger in ways she had never wanted to be.  

But those inner changes were the reason why Tinker Bell’s next words rang so true, no matter how badly Snow wanted to deny them. 

“Don’t trust her so much,” Tink said so softly that Snow had to strain to hear her.  “Blue isn’t fighting the same battles you are.  She’s looking forward _centuries._   She does what she thinks must be done for the greater good, not what’s good for us now.” 

Still, Snow didn’t want to believe that.  “Blue just gave us the ability to get Emma and Henry back,” she pointed out. 

“For her own reasons, I’m sure,” said the fairy whom Blue had once refused to believe in.  Twice, if Regina’s tale was to be believed, and Snow had grown to know her stepmother too well to doubt her. 

“I think you’re being unduly pessimistic,” she replied, wishing she could believe that. 

Tink only frowned.  “I hope I am.”

 

****************

 

Of _course_ it was a trap.  And of course Prince Thomas—who had gone along with Charming (because really, which other royal was dumb enough to wander in there?  Not Princess Abigail, and certainly not Sir Frederick while he was with her)—managed to get himself seriously injured during the escape.  Baelfire really tried not to stereotype Cinderella’s prince, but the boy _had_ fallen in love at first sight with a girl who’d only made it to the ball with magical help.  And he’d also been stupid enough to try to help Ella get out of the deal she’d made in order to change her life, as if nothing bad could ever come of _that_.  Put simply, the boy just wasn’t that bright. 

“I really miss cell phones right now,” David groused as he and Baelfire eased Thomas off of his horse.  Thankfully, the younger man was unconscious now, probably from blood loss despite the bandage that they’d tied over the gaping wound in his side. 

Bae ran a tired hand over his face.  “Tell me about it.  I _told_ you that was a trap.”   

“Now’s not the time.”  Together, they lowered Thomas to the ground, and the boy moaned softly as David removed the blood-soaked bandage, peering at the seeping wound.  

“We lost at least two dozen men,” Bae pointed out, feeling petulant.  

He’d been _right_ , and the Witch had barely even waited for an exchange of pleasantries before she’d tried to kill both princes.  Charming had jumped in front of Thomas, of course, and the bracelet had protected them both—until the Witch’s so-called royal guard had come pouring into the pavilion and tried to cut them both to pieces.  Luckily, Bae had been close enough with the cavalry to bail the pair out, but a full-scale battle had erupted within minutes, and it had taken all the skill Bae possessed to extract their forces from the situation.  Charming had, of course, been so honorable that he’d left the bulk of their army away from the supposed parlay, but the Witch had done nothing of the sort, and their fifty man honor guard had been vastly outnumbered by the several thousand she’d keep hidden not far away. 

Only twenty-one of their men made it back with Bae, Charming, and Thomas, and many of them were almost as badly wounded as Thomas.  Attempting to parlay with the Wicked Witch had bought them nothing except more deaths.  Now they were even worse off than before…and that wasn’t even the worst of it.  If Thomas _died_ , Baelfire knew they’d lose his father’s support.  Oh, the King would probably stay for awhile, but he was a touchy man, and terribly protective over his family.  Thomas had a younger brother, and under their kingdom’s rules of succession, that brother took precedence over Princess Alexandra.  Thomas’ death would make him heir to the throne, and that meant Thomas’ father would be desperate to make peace with the Wicked Witch so that he didn’t lose his only remaining son. 

Whether or not the Witch would accept his allegiance was up for grabs, but so far as Baelfire was concerned, that didn’t matter.  They couldn’t afford to lose _any_ more of their army.  If they did, the war was all but lost. 

“Not _now!_ ” Charming retorted, applying pressure to the wound.  “Write Snow.  Tell her we need Tinker Bell as quickly as possible.” 

“Got it.”  Scowling, Baelfire pulled out a small communications chalkboard and scribbled a note.  

Regina had enchanted a dozen of them about a month after returning to the Enchanted Forest.  None of their old technology worked there (at least not beyond its battery life, and it wasn’t like they could build a cell phone tower, anyway), but Regina had come up with the idea of using small chalkboards to “text” back and forth in emergencies.  They couldn’t send long messages, but at least the words could cover long distances in the blink of an eye. 

Snow’s response showed up almost immediately, written in loopy and beautiful handwriting that replaced Bae’s haphazard scrawl.  _Tink is on her way.  How bad?_  

Sometimes Bae forgot that Emma’s mother could have had kicked Xena’s ass if the warrior princess had lived in the Enchanted Forest, but her succinct response reminded him so much of Emma that it hurt.  Banishing those thoughts, he scrawled a quick answer: 

_About fifteen wounded, twenty-five or more dead.  Got caught in an ambush that was supposed to be a parlay.  David’s okay._

Thomas was moaning, and Baelfire looked away from the tablet to hand David clean bandages.  Pressure had slowed the bleeding, but Thomas still hadn’t regained full consciousness.  “That looks ugly,” he said softly. 

“It is,” Charming said quietly.  “Did Snow say how long Tink will be?” 

“I’ll ask.” 

He got that message in before Snow replied to the previous one, and a response came almost immediately.  Swallowing, Bae looked up. 

“Tink said an hour before she left.  We’re pretty far for her to fly, and she doesn’t teleport.” 

David grimaced.  “I don’t suppose magic runs in your family, does it?” 

“No.  Dad didn’t get his magic the, uh, normal way.” 

“Right.  I suppose you’d have mentioned something by now if you could do magic, huh?”  the prince replied with what Bae knew was forced cheer.  

Bae sighed.  “Yeah.” 

His opinion on magic was odd, Baelfire knew.  Having grown up in a world where magic was a distant force, a power that belonged to the great and the important but not in _his_ life, he’d never known much about it before his father had killed the Dark One.  Then that act had changed everything, and he’d come to believe that magic itself was evil for what it had done to his papa.  Because of that, he’d hated magic for the longest time, only to willingly come back to a world full of it…all for the love of a woman who was now stuck back in the world he’d run to in order to escape magic. 

There were so many things about his life that made no logical sense.  When he’d handed Pandora’s Box back to his father in Neverland, Baelfire had accepted that magic wasn’t necessarily evil.  He’d started to hope that maybe, just maybe, his father really _could_ change…and then he had watched his father kill himself in order to defeat Pan. 

Self sacrifice was a kind of magic all of its own, Regina had told him when the pain had dulled to a muted roar.  She’d never studied it much, having no intention of ever sacrificing her own life for some higher purpose, but Regina recalled having read something or another on it years earlier.  Rumplestiltskin had never come out and said it, but that was what he’d meant when he’d repeatedly said that in order for Pan to die, _he_ had to die.  He’d been intending to sacrifice himself all along.  _And I didn’t believe him._  

Swallowing his own regrets back, Bae turned back to the pair of princes and concentrated on saving Thomas’ life.  They had a war to win, and no matter how many they had already lost, more would die before the war was over.

 

****************

 

Suddenly, the door burst open, flying back against the outer wall hard enough to break the hinges.  Regina sagged briefly.  Almost an hour had passed since she’d started working to force the door open, and now she looked exhausted.  But the Queen did not voice a word of complaint, instead flicking her wrist until a glowing blue ball of light appeared.  The ball floated away from them, illuminating the dark interior of the building. 

Regina and Belle entered together, cautiously, with Robin right on their heels, bow in hand.  Regina’s ball of flickering light made a slow circuit of a very empty room; there were a few boxes in one corner and straw on the floor, but there was no furniture and definitely no legendary magical items visible.  The wooden crates in the corner didn’t even have lids, and not a one of them had anything inside at all.  The trio spread out warily, but there wasn’t exactly much of the room to look at, and Belle heard Regina huff in annoyance. 

“There’s nothing here,” Robin said after a moment, following the glowing ball into the far corner.  

“Then why shield the building with magic?” Belle asked, studying a pile of straw near her right foot.  

Regina growled: “To waste our time, probably.” 

“What, have they done this in every town they expect we’ll wander into?” Robin wondered out loud.  “That doesn’t make any sense at all.” 

“Confusing your enemies isn’t about making sense,” Regina retorted.  “Trust me.  Being evil is something I know plenty about.  We’re wasting time here.  There’s no magical object.  That message had to be a trick, something we were meant to find.” 

“Maybe you’re right,” Robin conceded, looking behind the door.  

Still studying the floor, Belle shook her head.  There was something else here, if only she could pinpoint exactly what it was that her instincts were telling her.  _Empty_ was too easy of an explanation.  She let a breath out, speaking slowly.  “I don’t think so.” 

“There’s nothing _here_ ,” Regina snarled impatiently.  “Look around.  It’s an empty room.” 

“And it’s not even a _big_ empty room,” Robin added, lowering his bow.  “I think Regina’s right.  We’ve been sent on a wild goose chase.” 

It sounded eminently logical, even the bit about the message having been a forgery designed to pull them away from the main war effort.  And yet—Belle couldn’t quite believe that.  Her instincts were still screaming that something else was going on.  As she kicked a pile of straw in frustration, Belle’s toe caught on a small lip on the floor, sending her tumbling to the ground.  She landed hard on her hands and knees, yelping as the palm of her left hand caught on something metal. 

“Lady Belle, are you all right?” True to form, Robin leapt to her side, hooking a hand under her elbow to help Belle to her feet.  

She blinked, staring at her hand.  “I’m fine.” 

Before Robin could stop her, Belle dropped back to her hands and knees, running her hands along the floor and looking for the bit of metal she had cut her hand on.  Within moments, she found it, and then, moving her hands outwards, was able to identify a square outline that was roughly four feet square.  Unable to help herself, Belle started to grin. 

“There’s a trap door down here!” she exclaimed, her heart racing. 

Regina swung into action.  “Move and I’ll open it,” she ordered, the glowing ball already hovering over Belle.  But Belle clambered to her knees instead of getting up. 

“Why don’t we just try to open it the normal way instead?” she replied, groping for and finding a handle buried beneath the dirt and the straw.  “Help me pull it up, Robin.” 

The outlaw leaned over and grabbed the handle with her.  Belle stood, and then they heaved together.  Surprisingly, the trap door opened immediately, its hinges barely squeaking in protest.  Belle shot Regina an apologetic smile.  

“Let’s save your magic for when we really need it.” 

“Right.” 

“There’s a ladder here.  I’ll go first,” Robin cut in before Regina could say more, slinging his bow over his shoulder and then matching actions to words.  The ladder was steep and made of iron, almost straight up and down.  Belle couldn’t see how long the ladder was as Robin swung himself onto the first few rungs and started down; the bottom of it disappeared into an even darker gloom.  The air coming from beneath the trapdoor was colder, too, which she supposed made sense since the ladder led into an underground chamber of some sort. 

“Can you send that little ball of light down here, Regina?” Robin called up when the darkness had almost swallowed him. 

“Sure.”  The blue ball zoomed through the opening, skirting past Robin and into the space beneath him.  Peering down, Belle could just make out the floor beneath the outlaw, stone and covered in shadows of some sort.  Was that dirt?  Whatever it was, the floor looked like it was only a story or so beneath the room Belle was now in. 

“It looks like a cellar of some sort,” she told Regina as the sorceress leaned down next to her.    

There was room enough on the ladder now; Robin was over halfway down.  Without waiting for Regina, Belle hopped onto the ladder, hissing in pain when her cut hand made contact with cold metal.  Still, the sting wasn’t so bad, so she ignored the cut and headed down.  She could wrap it up later.  In the meantime, there was a mystery to investigate. 

“I’m at the bottom!” Robin called up, and Belle quickened her pace.  It was easier to climb now that she could see each rung, so her feet hit the ground shortly after Robin’s.  He headed left and she went right, with the ball of light hovering in between them.   

Regina was on the ladder before Robin’s soft exclamation of surprise startled Belle. 

“Good heavens,” the outlaw whispered, and Belle whirled around to follow his gaze. 

There was a slender figure chained against the far wall, blindfolded, gagged, and covered in blood.  Shoulder-length, matted hair covered most of his face, but Belle would have known those features anywhere.  She launched into motion, sprinting forward before she even knew where her feet were carrying her. 

_“Rumplestiltskin!”_

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the wonderful people who left comments and kudos! I do love to know what people think - particularly since this is my first foray into the OUAT fandom! Please do stay tuned for Chapter 3: "The Price" in which we find out exactly what Rumplestiltskin has been up to for the last year.


	4. The Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out how Rumplestiltskin wound up in Bremen, see what his last year was like, and meet the mysterious individual responsible for his present predicament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING:** This chapter contains torture. If that's not your cup of tea, read the first scene, and then skip to the last scene.

**_Chapter Three—“The Price”_ **

One Year Ago:

_“But I’m a villain,” he said softly, meaning every word, “and villains don’t get happy endings.”_

_Fire was already spreading outwards from the wound in his chest, and Rumplestiltskin knew he didn’t have long.  His curse was screaming wildly in his mind, fighting against the very_ idea _of ending things this way, but it was the only way to save those he loved…and that was more important than anything else.  For once in his long life, he was going to do the right thing.  No matter what it took.  No matter what the price._

 _He twisted the dagger, and within seconds, Rumplestiltskin and his father vanished in a flash of blindingly brilliant white light.  Pain surged outwards from the wound, engulfing them both, and though Rumplestiltskin did not cry out—he was too focused, all but shaking with determination and resolve—Malcolm did.  Magic, both Rumplestiltskin’s protesting curse and pure white_ power _surrounded them, pulling them into a vortex of agony and energy.  The world went black, then gold, and then white again, and suddenly there was nothing._

_Moments of emptiness passed.  Was he floating?_

_He was alone.  Time had no meaning.  Nothing happened—until something did._

The first thing he tasted was grass, sticking up his nostrils and in his mouth.  His eyes were still closed, and the left side of his chest still throbbed, thumping in time with the beating of his heart, hard and fast and painful.  Slowly, he forced his eyes open, blinking when a blade of grass poked into his left eye.  Everything hurt, and the left shoulder of his expensive suit felt stiff, as if it was covered in blood.

Maybe it was.

Swallowing, Rumplestiltskin slowly forced himself into a sitting position, his limbs shaking as he did so.  It was so _quiet_.  And the sunlight was brighter than he would have expected, or at least brighter than the day had been in Storybrooke— 

 _Storybrooke._   His head whipped around wildly, but he was in an empty clearing.  Utterly empty.  There were trees less than fifty yards away in pretty much every direction, but no sign of civilization at all.  Judging from his surroundings, he was somewhere on the west end of the Enchanted Forest—centuries of memory told him that that specific breed of elm tree only grew there.  But there was no one else there.  No sign of life whatsoever. 

Had Regina cast her curse yet?  Were Belle and Bae all right?  What if—

With an effort, he shoved his desire to panic down.  Regina would come through, even though she’d hate the cost of what she had to do.  That meant the others would probably be along shortly, depending upon how long it took Regina’s curse to meet Pan’s and how much time had passed since he’d killed himself.

Ah.  There was the rub.  He’d killed himself and—

That was why it was so quiet.  The magic-blocking cuff was still on his left wrist, but it didn’t matter.  The whispers no longer filled his mind, driving him towards murder and mayhem and rage.  His curse was _broken._ Silent.  Gone.  For the first time in three hundred years, Rumplestiltskin’s mind was solely his own.  The darkness that had controlled his soul for so many years was…gone.

The fingers of his right hand closed on a familiar ribbed hilt, and he turned his head to look at the dagger.  Blood glistened on the blade, his and Pan’s both, filling the delicate engravings and starting to dry already.  Holding his breath, Rumplestiltskin turned the blade over, looking for the letters he had seen there for three centuries.

The dagger was blank. 

He was free.  He was utterly without magic, but he was _free_.  Rumplestiltskin had wondered, very briefly, if sacrificing himself to save Henry in Neverland might wind up like this, if the magic inherent in a self-sacrifice might save him and break his curse, but he’d not dared to hope.  Even when he’d planned to kill Pan for the right reasons, he’d not really thought that it would save him.  He was the _Dark One_ , after all, and even sacrificing himself to save his grandson would probably not be enough to do both.  Odds had always been that he would simply die, and he’d made peace with that.  So, when he’d come out to face Pan without magic, the thought had never crossed his mind.  He had only wanted to save Bae, Belle, and the others— 

“You have come a long way to return to us, Dark One.” 

Staggering to his feet, Rumplestiltskin spun to face where the voice had come from behind him.  No one had been there moments earlier, but the familiar taste of magic was in the air.  It was sharp and tangy, power overlaid with darkness, a flavor he knew well.  His right hand closed desperately around the dagger; it was his only defense now that he was without magic of his own, but judging from the sudden appearance of these people, he would stand no chance. 

Had he magic, facing off with these five would be simple—not that he would have stuck around for a drawn-out fight; that wasn’t his style at all.  Even without it, he could see that the tall red-haired woman who had spoken was the real threat.  Although the four individuals behind her were all clearly magic users—two of them had small balls of magic in their hands already—she was the threat.  Rumplestiltskin had never seen her before, and had never heard of anyone even remotely like her, but he knew power when he saw it.  And that woman had _power_. 

 _Fantastic.  I have nothing save my formidable intelligence to get myself out of this one._  

“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong man, dearie,” he replied casually, shifting his weight so that he was standing more evenly.  Even after healing his leg in Neverland—properly healing it, not just managing the injury with magic as he had for so many centuries—Rumplestiltskin been unable to shake the habit of putting more weight on his left leg than his right.  Had it been worth it, leaving himself powerless?  He’d know soon enough. 

She smiled, porcelain smooth skin crinkling slightly at the corners of her mouth.  The woman, whoever or whatever she claimed to be, was truly beautiful.  Stunning was perhaps a better word, with flawless features framed by flaming red hair.  Her face was too perfect.  There was magic working here. 

“Rumplestiltskin, I presume?” the woman asked.  Her voice was low, almost soothing.  It immediately put him on his guard. 

Still, he smiled his old sly smile, knowing that the threat of power was almost as good as power itself, and a bluff was only a bluff if your opponent knew you were lying.  He twirled his left hand for emphasis.  “But of course.  And you are?” 

“That will keep,” she answered easily, and something in the tone of her voice gave him pause. 

Rumplestiltskin studied the stranger—all five of them, truly, but a second evaluation revealed that the silver and black clad woman remained the most dangerous of the bunch.  The man and woman at her back were more _overtly_ dangerous, and were clearly trying very hard to distract him, so he kept his eyes on their leader.  Meanwhile, his mind whirled over possibilities, probabilities, and the slightly odd feel of magic in the air.  Centuries of knowledge and study hadn’t abandoned him when his curse broke, and the answer came to him almost as quickly as she deflected his question. 

“I knew the fae had escaped the curse, but I did not expect to see you wandering this far out,” he commented mildly, watching the other four faces.  Aside from the dangerous two, there were two other men, an interesting fact in itself.  There were no male _fairies_ , only male fae, and they were rare indeed.  Yet this woman had three of them with her, undoubtedly to send a message of some sort. 

“You are clever,” the fae leader replied, a smile touching her face.  For some reason, she seemed happy with that knowledge.  Worry knotted up in his stomach, but Rumplestiltskin smiled. 

“I aim to please.” 

One smooth white hand came up, and long fingers curled slightly.  Even with the cuff on, even without magic, he could feel the power building up, could feel it hesitating in the air and ready to strike.  The red-haired fae smiled. 

“Oh, you shall indeed.” 

He opened his mouth to respond, but magic lashed out and the world went dark before he could say a word.

 

****************

 

Hands on his shoulders pushed _down_ , and even as Rumplestiltskin clawed his way back into consciousness, those hands shoved him down on his back.  Hard.  

The impact with the stone floor knocked the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for air.  Fingers buried themselves in his long hair and yanked back, making him yelp in pain.  Before he knew what was happening, a blindfold wrapped itself over his eyes, tightly enough that he saw stars beneath the cloth.  Disoriented, a moment passed before Rumplestiltskin even started to struggle, and by then there were hands on his wrists and ankles both.  He tried to fight, but he’d always been slender and he was still weak from the wound in his chest.  The fae—they _had_ to be fae—overpowered him easily, holding him against the cold floor. 

Magic tingled over his skin, fast and sharp, making hairs stand up on the back of his neck.  One spell swept down from his head to his toes, and a different one swept back up along the same path.  The first was merely exploratory, but the second vanished his clothes and left him naked. 

“What—” Rumplestiltskin tried to protest, but the moment his mouth was open, an iron cylinder shoved into it, making him gag as cold metal knocked against his teeth, shoving down into his throat. 

Metal pressed up against his nose, blocking his airflow and forcing his head back with the impact.  But a hand remained anchored in his hair, yanking Rumplestiltskin up short when he tried to escape the gag.  Straps, also made of metal, jerked tight against his neck, and Rumplestiltskin choked as he felt the gag buckle tightly into place.  The straps connected to the mouthpiece and plate over his nose by hinges, and the entire contraption was very rough.  The metal edges cut into his skin even as the gag itself sliced his tongue open, and Rumplestiltskin tried to cry out in pain.  The gag muffled it down to a pained whimper, but at least he could breathe through a small hole in the faceplate.  

Sort of.  The gag restricted his airflow significantly.  Panicking, he found himself gasping for air while the fae fastened metal of some sort around his wrists and ankles.  This material was cold, too, but lighter and smoother than the iron gag.  Still, the bands tightened, and then he felt the tingle of magic and they tightened again, squeezing bones together painfully.  Another cry tore out of his air-starved chest, setting off a round of choking and coughing whist he struggled for air.  Several long minutes passed before Rumplestiltskin could control his breathing, and he finally managed to suck in a somewhat calm breath. 

Then metal closed around his neck, shrinking down and shooting magic into his system.  Nerve endings exploded, and stars exploded in front of his eyes.  Rumplestiltskin tried to scream, only to be unable to find enough air to do so.  Thrashing helplessly against the hands holding him, he convulsed in pain, struggling for air while he continued trying to scream.  Several minutes passed as magic raced through his system, darkness ripping and slashing and clawing into him.  But the fae held him down until the convulsions stopped, and the magical attack finally died down. 

Panting for air, Rumplestiltskin slumped weakly, and did not resist as the hands holding him lifted his shaking body, fastening additional shackles around his wrists and ankles.  The restraints were not as restrictive as the bands, but they were still tight enough to hurt.  They pulled his arms and legs uncomfortably far apart, and Rumplestiltskin cried out again as his chest and face crashed into a cold stone wall. 

“Begin,” the female fae’s voice commanded. 

Rumplestiltskin screamed as the whip bit into his back.

 

****************

 

Months passed in darkness, in pain.  The fae spoke to him rarely, usually only to bark a command which he would inevitably try to ignore.  Rumplestiltskin’s body weakened quickly; he was human and helpless, and the fae seemed to have little knowledge of human nutritional concerns.  Or perhaps they just didn’t care, and were happy to keep him functioning with magic instead of feeding him often enough.  They gave him plenty of water, frequently dunking him headlong into a barrel of freezing cold water until Rumplestiltskin was near drowned, choking and struggling for air while he coughed up the water his stomach could not absorb. 

Assuming they came once per day, it had been eighty-two days since the fae had taken him, eighty-two days of torture with no explanation.  Rumplestiltskin’s mind was in a constant whirl of pain and magic; the collar kept darkness swirling over him like a second skin when the younger fae were not there to torture him.  The only respite he received was when he passed out from exhaustion or pain— 

Hot irons touched his left side, right on top of broken ribs.  Convulsing in the chains, Rumplestiltskin howled weakly in pain, his face pressed against the hard stone.  Sometimes they chained his back against the wall and others his front; today was the later, and the hot irons moved on to his back. 

Screaming into the gag, Rumplestiltskin felt flesh sizzling under the irons.  After a moment, they lifted, and then moved a little to the right and then came down again, and he screeched.  White flashed in front of his eyes, blindfolded since that very first day, and when the irons touched his skin for a fourth time, he felt hot tears splash down his face.  The irons lifted and came down again, leaving Rumplestiltskin to shudder and shake, hanging weakly in his chains and sobbing in pain.  

Right side this time; the smell of burning flesh filled the cellar.  He yearned to know _why_ they tortured him, what they wanted or _anything_ —but he could only struggle to breathe through the agony.  The only time the fae removed the gag was to near drown him, and they shoved it back into his mouth each time before he could begin to voice a question or even catch his breath.  

The irons traveled downwards, burning his skin every inch or so as he shook violently in agony.  The only good part about this routine was that it cauterized the still-bleeding wounds from the most recent whipping, but a human body could only absorb so much pain.  Still sobbing, growing weaker by the moment, Rumplestiltskin’s head began to spin wildly as he drifted closer and closer to unconsciousness—but then a fae’s hand touched the back of his neck, and magic flooded into him, dragging him forcibly back from the edge.  Renewed awareness slammed into him, and Rumplestiltskin screeched once more.

 

****************

 

He’d lost count somewhere after one hundred and twenty torture sessions.  Somewhere around that point, _she_ had come back, and the physical torture had been replaced by an assault of magic like he had never felt before.  It felt like darkness was trying to claw into his soul, like tendrils of sheer evil were working their way into everything he was and everything he could be—and pain ripped out of his insides with every breath he took.  Rumplestiltskin could still identify magic, could still feel it racing through him and knew what it was doing, but he could do nothing about it.  All his years of accumulating knowledge were useless, now.  He was utterly defenseless.  

She departed after another dozen or more sessions; he could not tell how many after the darkness lashed into him so strongly. Rumplestiltskin’s mind tipped off the edge of coherency and started to float.  Only the pain seemed able to make him lucid, and then only for short periods.  He only shook and screamed, flinching when hands came close and struggling for air.  She came more often as his mind grew foggier, as it started to tumble aimlessly through memory and…and something.  Nothing made sense any more. 

He didn’t even know what she _wanted_. 

A hand touched the back of his neck as he sobbed into the wall, magic still crackling over him, darkness still clawing into his soul.  How she could touch him without it harming her was a mystery; this amount of power should attack even the caster.  But her long fingers caressed the back of his head, moving slowly as Rumplestiltskin shook wildly. 

“Do not fight it,” she whispered, and he wanted to call her a fool because he _wasn’t_ fighting.  He was only trying to breathe through the agony.  The pain was so intense that he had a hard time remembering even his own name. 

 _Rumplestiltskin_ , a voice in his mind whispered, and it sounded like Belle. 

Belle.  Her face flashed in front of his eyes, broken and horrified and proud because she _knew_ what he was going to do to kill Pan, standing next to Bae while— 

Darkness stabbed in, magic trying to shred his soul, and Rumplestiltskin screamed in pain, convulsing wildly.  Her hand stroked his hair, her touch an absurdly gentle contrast to the power racing through him and making his limbs spasm. 

“Just let go,” she whispered, squeezing the back of his skull tightly and then releasing him.  He couldn’t hear her step back, but she must have, because then a whip lashed into the torn skin of his back, and Rumplestiltskin screamed again. 

Usually the magical attack withdrew before they started to physically torture him, but not this time.  This time the whips and the irons and the beatings came with the darkness, and _she_ did not leave.

 

****************

 

Three quarters of the way through the year, he was an utterly wasted mess of pain, owner of a mind that cartwheeled through memories and coherency without following any logical pattern.  Some of the images flashing through his mind didn’t even come out of his own past; they were like snapshots into someone else’s life, like the memories that he had once inherited with the now-broken curse of the Dark One.  But these were different, older, shadowed in pain like his own and so very hard to differentiate from the present. 

Either that past or his own memories had entirely too much knowledge concerning torture, and he recognized nearly every method they used on him, from the rack to boiling water to weights pressing down on him and more.  Once they burned his eyes out with the hot irons, though _her_ magic fixed that some sessions later so that they could do it again as he howled and shook and tried to beg through the gag.  That process repeated itself again and again until he flinched wildly whenever hands even started to come near his face, until one day she healed his eyes and they simply tied the blindfold back on as he trembled in fear. 

They never _asked_ anything, not even when she came.  The female fae only told him not to fight it, clearly angered by _something_ , but Rumplestiltskin could not comprehend what.  Somewhere amidst the pain he came to the conclusion that their goal had to be to grind all resistance and sense of self out of him, but why?  He was already terrified, utterly unable to fight them and willing to do almost anything in order to make the pain stop.  But they never asked. 

When they shoved something into his body and he felt it expand, Rumplestiltskin knew it had to be a pear.  _Le poire d'angoisser_ , the kingdom that had created the device had named it, and the petals tore into his innards as he screamed in agony.  The pressure only increased as it expanded, and he thrashed in his chains with energy he’d not known he still had, sobbing wordlessly for the pain to stop. 

It didn’t.

 

****************

 

Present Day: 

They’d left him with his back against the wall that day, with stone rubbing against fresh burns as he dangled by his wrists, utterly unable to support himself.  Breathing was so hard, but something kept his body functioning; was that part of the magic she had worked on him?  There were layers and layers he could not identify, darkness and power and pain that tore through him at the slightest touch.  Sometimes the magic attacked for days on end—or what he thought of as days, anyway; it might have been months—but for now it was silent.  The lesser fae had left him alone sometime earlier, shaking and bleeding and sobbing for air.  

Voices; he flinched helplessly.  Any concept of time he’d once possessed had been burned out of him, but he’d hoped they’d be gone longer.  A tiny bit of light crept in beneath the lower right hand corner of the blindfold, and his trembling grew more violent.  His breathing came faster and harder until he was almost hyperventilating, choking for air around the gag as footsteps closed in on him.  Another voice came, and then there were hands on his face— 

Rumplestiltskin recoiled weakly, whimpering in pain and terror as fingers brushed against his broken left cheekbone, still swollen from a beating not too many sessions before.  His entire body burned.  He couldn’t—he _couldn’t_ — 

“Rumple?” a distant voice whispered frantically.  It was female, but not _her_.  Hands reached around the back of his head, untying the blindfold, and he shied away from the touch, but the blindfold came off, anyway. 

“Regina, _get down here!_ ” the same voice shouted, and recognition twinged at the corner of his memory.  Light in so much darkness.  A beautiful face framed by dark hair, with blue eyes that looked at him as if… 

The light—blue and magic—drifted closer as he tried to open his eyes, making him squint against brightness and pain when he tried to open his eyes.  Someone else spoke as hands fumbled with the gag, momentarily pulling it tighter against his face and shoving the metal cylinder deeper into his throat.  He choked helplessly, but then it was gone, and Rumplestiltskin could breathe more easily for the first time in forever. 

“That’s not possible,” someone else whispered, and suddenly the chains holding him up released as arms caught him and lowered him to the ground.  Two sets of hands brushed against burns and wounds on his chest and back, making Rumplestiltskin moan in pain.  He couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t comprehend what was happening as the shackles on his ankles released, too.  His head was on something other than cold stone.  Not the floor.  Softer.  Someone’s lap? 

He wanted to curl up and sob, but moving hurt too much, so he lay still, tense and trembling violently.  A hand touched his face again, this time on the less damaged right side. 

“Rumple?” she whispered.  He knew the voice.  _Remembered_. 

“Belle…?” he croaked, his voice rusty from screaming and disuse.  Her name was the first word he’d spoken in over a year, and he felt her shake in relief before he passed out.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments! Next up is Chapter 4: "The Impossible," in which Rumplestiltskin is his usual difficult self, gets in a spat with Regina, and generally tries to claw his way towards sanity.
> 
> In the meantime, I have a question for all of you! Do you think Rumplestiltskin is as magic-less as he believes, or will he be able to find a way to use magic?


	5. The Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina doubts this actually _is_ Rumplestiltskin.

**_Chapter Four—“The Impossible”_**  

 

Regina stared at the blood covered figure in Belle’s arms for several long moments, gathering her thoughts carefully.  Belle’s hands were shaking, and the younger woman looked torn between terror and overwhelming joy, but Regina refused to fall into that trap.  Rumplestiltskin was _dead_.  They’d all seen what happened in Storybrooke, and there was no way in hell that Rumplestiltskin would allow himself to be trussed up and tortured like this.  The imp always had a trick up his sleeve, and even when the Charmings had locked him up, only they, the insufferable do-gooders that they were, had been foolish enough to think he couldn’t walk out of that cell at any time.  Oh, Regina had been fooled at first, too, but then she’d actually listened to what he was saying. 

_“But why would I desire that, dearie?  I’m exactly where I want to be,”_ he had said to her a lifetime ago, locked in a dwarf- and fairy-made cage that he could have left the moment the fancy struck him.  Was that what was happening here?  Was the old trickster at it again, having fooled them all into thinking he was dead en route to the next step of his cursed longer game? 

No.  Regina couldn’t allow her own imagination to run away with her.  Rumplestiltskin had killed himself, an admittedly out of character action for the imp, yet one that had definitely happened.  She’d _watched_ it happen.  Felt the magic swirling, both the darkness and the something else that had swallowed Rumplestiltskin and Pan together.  It had been done with typically Rumplestiltskin-like flair, too, albeit with also more honesty than could usually be expected from him.  That hadn’t been a doppelganger dying in Storybrooke.  This…whatever-he-was ( _who_ ever he was) had reacted with fear to Belle and Robin’s hands, had flinched away like someone who had been tortured beyond human endurance.  Ergo, it was not Rumplestiltskin.  And this was some sort of trap. 

“Belle.  Robin.  Step away from him,” she said steadily, raising her hands.  Whoever it was appeared to be unconscious, but Regina was taking no chances.  Not with the mark she’d seen outside the door to this miserable little stone hut, and certainly not considering the message Belle had decoded. 

Robin, thankfully, listened immediately, rising and stepping away from the mystery man.  He shot Regina a curious look full of questions, but he trusted her enough to do as she said without hesitation.  Belle, however, completely ignored her. 

_Such a foolish girl_.  Regina wanted to groan aloud, wanted to say things that definitely weren’t in keeping with her own attempts to be better than she’d been in the past.  _Too brave by half, and never one to obey orders._   “Belle,” she snapped impatiently.  “Step away.  _Now._ ” 

“What?” The younger woman finally looked up at Regina, her pretty face a mask of confusion. 

“You know this can’t be him.”  Regina tried to gentle her voice, but the words still came out harshly.  “He’s _dead_ , Belle.  We all saw—” 

“Would you know Robin anywhere?” Belle cut her off harshly, and Regina’s heart clenched inexplicably tight. 

“That’s not the same,” she protested weakly. 

“It _is_ ,” Belle insisted, those damnably honest eyes of hers boring into Regina’s.  “I don’t know how or why, but it’s him.  So, are you going to help him or not?” 

 Robin arrived at her side before Regina could figure out how to answer Belle’s plea, touching her arm and giving her a concerned look.  “What’s going on, Regina?” the outlaw asked quietly. 

“I’m not sure,” she murmured, swallowing.  “This should be impossible.” 

“ _What_ should be impossible?” Robin demanded.  “Obviously the two of you are on some page I’ve been left off of, and I have absolutely no idea what’s happening.  So explain, if you please.” 

Regina scowled, but Belle answered immediately, her voice firm.  “This is Rumplestiltskin.” 

“We don’t know that,” Regina interjected before Robin could protest that Rumplestiltskin was supposed to be dead.  _Everyone_ in the Enchanted Forest knew that, after all, and it didn’t bear repeating.  

“I do.” 

“No, you _don’t_ ,” Regina snapped.  “Look, Belle, I know what you want this to be—believe me, I _know_ ”—her voice cracked as memories of Daniel welled up, as she remembered turning her True Love into dust and ash—“but magic can’t bring back the dead.  And even if he hadn’t died, somehow, we’re back home.  He wouldn’t be human.” 

The bloody figure on the ground most certainly was human, without a flicker of shimmering gray-gold skin in sight.  However, because his skin was actually hard to see beneath the wounds and the blood, Regina flipped a hand in his direction, just to be sure.  A spark of magic leapt out of her palm willingly, speeding towards the man.  The cellar was awfully dark, after all, still only illuminated by the flying ball of light she’d cast earlier.  Senses could be tricked by careful enough spell work, and she would find whatever the catch was.  Her magic swept over the prone form, confirming that yes, indeed, he was human.  But waking. 

“I hate to disappoint you, dearie,” the man in Belle’s arms rasped weakly, “but I was always human beneath the curse.”  He coughed, his entire body shaking.  “And my curse is definitely…broken.” 

Awake, then.  Though her spell was now feeding Regina an enormous amount of information on his physical condition, none of it was good.  Her ears told her that breathing was obviously difficult for this fake-Rumplestiltskin, and the magic verified that the multitude of injuries were, at the very least, extremely real.  There wasn’t a glamor at work here hiding something deadly.  Armed with that knowledge, she did the only thing she could think of, short of killing the imposter then and there. 

“How?” Regina demanded. 

He laughed weakly, an oddly familiar cadence to the breathless chuckle.  “Killed myself…remember?” he whispered.  “Or tried to, anyway.” 

Dizzy brown eyes flicked away from her, looking up at the woman who still cradled her head in his arms.  Looking at her made his expression, still tight with pain, soften.  “Belle…I’m sorry.  So sorry…” 

He coughed again, cutting off whatever else he was going to say with a convulsion.  Regina swatted her glowing ball of light closer to his face, and watched him squint painfully.  Belle, however, ignored the petty trick. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Belle replied, her voice choked with emotion.  “You’re alive.” 

“Yes, and you won’t be for long if you don’t start explaining,” Regina interjected, earning herself another furious look from Belle.  Robin watched the pair of them cautiously, his eyes flickering back and forth as he assimilated everything that had been said and had been implied.  But another low laugh came from the figure on the floor, ending in a racking cough that made his entire body shake. 

“You’re a smart woman…figure it out.” 

Realization hit Regina like the proverbial ton of bricks, making her snarl.  Either this was Rumplestiltskin, or someone was doing the impersonation job of the century.  Who else could combine so much snarkiness with the sickeningly soft expression Gold always wore while looking at Belle?  “You’re not saying—” 

“Right in one.”  Rumplestiltskin’s eyes slid shut. 

“You bastard!  You _knew_!” 

“No…I didn’t.” 

Rumplestiltskin passed out again.

 

****************

 

Floating in a sea of pain, several moments passed before Rumplestiltskin could process the argument raging around him.  Someone had wrapped him in a blanket—probably Belle, _Belle_ , whose presence anchored him to sanity instead of the confusion and fear that had ruled his world for the last…however long it had been.  He was warmer than he’d felt in forever, but still shivering, possibly with fever or maybe because he was just cold.  It was hard to tell.  His subconscious kept trying to reach for magic that he didn’t have, listening for whispers that weren’t there. 

They were done quarrelling.  Apparently he’d convinced Regina, hard though it had been to summon up the necessary _personality_ to do so instead of curling up and sobbing out his soul in Belle’s arms.  His mind was still trying to jump headlong off a cliff; focusing was almost impossible, yet he’d managed it earlier and would have to manage it again.  He wasn’t going to show them how damaged he was. 

“…I’m sorry,” Regina was saying, her voice coming from what sounded like a great distance.  “My magic…well, I was never much interested in learning anything that wasn’t _dark_ magic.  I’m no healer.  I can’t help him.  And if someone doesn’t soon…I don’t think he’ll last the night.” 

“What?”  That was Belle’s horrified whisper, coming from very close.  His hand was held in hers, Rumplestiltskin realized, his head still in her lap.  Someone had moved him to his right side while he was unconscious, and the position was significantly more comfortable than on his back. 

Everything still hurt so much.  He had no hope of categorizing what hurt most; his body parts throbbed alternately, one pain overtaking another so quickly that it was hard to keep track of.  But at least the pain could help him stay coherent, could help him fight off the memories and not-memories and somehow give the appearance of something like sanity. 

“I’ve written Snow,” the third voice, the male voice, said.  It was vaguely familiar, but his sluggish mind refused to remember how he recognized it.  His memories of everything before the pain were so scattered; thinking was hard. 

“And?” Regina prompted. 

“She says that Tink left hours ago to join up with the army, something about an ambush and injuries and such.  So I wrote Charming, and…” 

He lost the rest of the sentence beneath a wave of pain, and a soft whimper escaped as he convulsed.  The closer to full consciousness he came, the more the pain dug in.  The convulsion died down, leaving his body shaking wildly. 

“Can’t you do anything at all?” Belle asked quietly.

“The only thing I can do is knock him out so that he doesn’t feel the pain,” his old student replied. 

Yes, it was time to insert himself into the conversation, no matter how much talking hurt.  Dredging up all the strength he had, Rumplestiltskin managed to whisper: “No.” 

“Rumple?”  Belle’s hand immediately squeezed his, making his lips twitch in what might have been a smile, once. 

“Still here,” he managed around his swollen tongue, tasting blood.  How to explain to them that he probably wasn’t going to die? He was pretty certain that the bands around his neck, wrists, and ankles were working some sort of magic on him, keeping him alive at the very least.  “I’m…” 

Unexpectedly, his mind took a right turn and the words he’d been planning to speak were buried under memories. 

_Pain.  White light lancing through his soul, suffocating darkness racing up to meet it.  “Not this time, old friend,” she said, and he screamed._

_The dagger.  Split imagery.  One: someone (him?) flat on his back on a table as a shadowy demon hovered, trapped, over his body and the dagger lying on his chest.  Two: upright this time, chained to the wall, the dagger pressing against his heart, against the still-open wound he’d inflicted on himself, and power arcing red and black between the two.  Both: screaming wildly._

Differentiating between reality and whatever else was impossible.  Even his memories were hopelessly scrambled.  How could he hope to concentrate on the here and now? 

“…significant internal bleeding,” Regina was saying.  “When he’s conscious, it won’t be for long.” 

_A hand on the back of his neck,_ pressing _, and power forced its way into him, clawing at his soul.  The hand stroked his hair as he screamed._  

“What _are_ these?” Belle asked, and he could almost feel her hand hovering over one of the bands. 

“They look bronze,” the man answered contemplatively.  “No fastenings, though.  Magic?” 

“Definitely,” Regina answered him, sounding less irritable than Rumplestiltskin expected her to.  His little evil queen had always disliked pointing out the obvious. 

“Fae magic,” he managed to put in, forcibly turning his mind to the present.  Old tricks worked; he could still focus with an effort.  Three centuries of training his mind to respond to magic hadn’t been wasted, then.  He could still _think._  

He’d started to wonder about that sometime during the torture, when he’d been reduced to a mere vessel for fear and pain.  Was that what the fae had wanted?  To strip him of coherent thought, of his humanity, of anything that made him who he was?  Instinct told him he was correct— _“Just let go.  Don’t fight.  Lose yourself, and everything will be all right.”—_ but why?  Why the promises, why the pain?  Not knowing had been even worse than the torture itself. 

“You mean fairy magic,” Regina corrected him, pulling Rumplestiltskin free of his musings. 

“No.  There’s…a difference.”  A significant one, but he couldn’t dredge up the energy to explain.  Another hard cough shook his body, and Rumplestiltskin tried unsuccessfully to bite back a moan of pain. 

“The fae vanished hundreds of years ago.  _You_ taught me that,” his protégé reminded him. 

“Well, I’m afraid…I don’t have the energy to continue your education at the moment,” he retorted weakly, not mentioning that he didn’t have the concentration to sort out relevant history from the agonized haze in his mind.  

“Don’t antagonize him,” Belle chided Regina. 

“Me?  I’m not—oh, nevermind.”  He could hear her pacing.  “Any response yet, Robin?” 

“I’ll go outside and check.  It’s kind of dark to read in here.”  Footsteps retreated, and he fought the urge to flinch.  Footsteps meant pain— 

_Focus!  Now is not the time to be a coward._  

But he was still terrified.  What happened if they came back?  Regina might be able to hold off any pair of the lesser fae, but not _her._ Her magic was fathomless and immense, and she’d squash Regina like a bug.  He had a hard time remembering what her face looked like, but he remembered her power well enough.  Shaking again, Rumplestiltskin tried unsuccessfully to swallow back the fear that thought brought with it.  However, Belle’s hands still held his, and she squeezed gently when his breathing started to come harder and faster.  Her lips brushed against his forehead, and Rumplestiltskin felt an echo of power spike through him. 

Only once before had he felt that surge, felt the sheer _golden_ magic sizzle through his veins.  That had been moments before he’d yanked away from the woman he loved, consumed by rage and by fear, shoving her away instead of accepting that which she freely offered.  Then he’d been powerful and yet had been dwarfed by the strength in her kiss, now he felt an echo calling to him, a memory of magic he no longer felt.  Yet it was not just his memory.  Couldn’t be.  Magic had been different in Storybrooke, and he’d never felt this there. 

Her presence, her light kiss, calmed him, and Rumplestiltskin let out a shaky breath.  Belle kept him anchored, always had. 

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered softly. 

“…love you,” he echoed, coughing back what tried to be a whimper of pain. 

“I’ll be right here,” Belle said fiercely, and he could feel her glowering at Regina even though his eyes were shut.   

He tried to smile for her, tried to tell her again how much he loved her, but then his mind folded under and memories assaulted him once more.

 

****************

 

“David caught Tink just before she left.  She’s on her way,” Robin announced as he ducked through the doorway several minutes later.  

They’d brought Rumplestiltskin up from the cellar during his first bout of unconsciousness, and then Regina had cleaned him up with magic as best he could.  Belle had wrapped his shivering body in the blanket out of her pack, trying not to notice how thin or hurt he was.  Even while delirious, he whimpered periodically in pain, flinching away from hands that weren’t there and shaking violently.  She didn’t dare think about how long they had hurt him for or how he’d gotten to Bremen—if Belle did, she might panic, and panicking wasn’t what Rumplestiltskin needed at the moment.  He needed her to be strong, so strong she would be. 

He was _alive._   That was what mattered, that and keeping him alive.  Regina’s doubts made it hard to focus on the positive, though, but Belle kept reminding herself that Regina had admitted she knew little to nothing of healing.  _She has to be wrong,_ Belle told herself for the hundredth time, looking down at the fragile man twitching fitfully in her lap.  She’d thought she’d lost him forever, and Belle refused to give up on him now. 

“How long?” she asked Robin, terribly glad for his presence.  Regina was growing more irritated by the moment, which Belle didn’t blame her for—it only meant the queen was worried—but Robin handled her beautifully, deflecting the nasty comments with his smile before they could rise.  

“Four or five hours,” the outlaw replied, and Belle bit her lip.  Did Rumplestiltskin have hours? 

“Good,” Regina bit out, making Belle’s head snap around. 

“What do you mean ‘good’?” she demanded. 

“I mean I’m still not convinced.  This is entirely too convenient.” 

“It doesn’t look convenient from where I’m sitting!” 

Rumplestiltskin moaned softly, and Belle looked down worriedly.  She hadn’t meant to shout, but she was sick and tired of Regina’s incessant doubts.  Her heart knew this was Rumplestiltskin.  It wasn’t false hope, and she wasn’t deceiving herself.  True Love didn’t _lie_ , and Belle knew it was him as surely as she knew her own name.  She’d know him anywhere, and Regina knew that, too, if only she’d let herself believe.  Swallowing, she squeezed her love’s hands again, but he didn’t respond, sleeping or unconscious again. 

She hoped it was sleeping.  He was probably exhausted. 

“She doesn’t mean it that way, Belle,” Robin interjected, again the voice of reason.  “Regina, love, what do you mean?” 

Regina stopped pacing when Robin put a hand on her arm, softening slightly.  The older woman sighed, and gave Belle what might have been an apologetic look; it was hard to tell in the dark interior of the hut, with only Regina’s magic lighting the room.  The door was still open, but sunset had long since passed, and even the full moon outside didn’t add much light to the closed off building.  “Only that it makes no sense.  Nothing adds up.  First of all, assuming the letter you deciphered was real, Belle, it can only refer to Rumplestiltskin—but with his curse broken, he has no power.  So an object of great magical power _can’t_ be him. 

“Additionally, some of those wounds are really old.  Those…bands are interfering with my ability to figure out everything that’s wrong with him, but since we haven’t seen him since our return, I’d guess he’s been here the entire time.  And why in the world would anyone keep _Rumplestiltskin_ alive that long, particularly when he’s human?” 

Swallowing, Belle fought down a sudden wave of nausea.  The curse had returned them to the Enchanted Forest a year ago.  Could Rumplestiltskin really have been suffering that entire time?  She didn’t even want to _think_ that, couldn’t imagine him living with pain for that long while he knew everyone he loved thought he was dead, and that no one was coming for him.  Tears threatened to enter her eyes, but she forced them back.  _I’ll cry later.  Much later_.  _Not now._  

“Who are the fae?” she asked to distract herself.  Perhaps the answer to Regina’s question lay in who had locked Rumplestiltskin in here. 

“Evil fairies.”  The queen shrugged.  “Followers of the Black Fairy.  They vanished centuries ago.” 

“Obviously they didn’t vanish completely if they’re still putting her mark on buildings,” Robin replied offhandedly, gesturing at the open door.  “Could they be working with the Witch?” 

“Maybe.”  Crossing her arms, Regina turned to stare at the door.  “But then why would they want him?  This still doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Unless it’s a distraction?” 

But Belle shook her head in response to Robin’s question before Regina could answer.  “No one would believe it if they told us they had him,” she said softly, her eyes drifting back to Rumplestiltskin’s shaking shoulders.  “Even me.  We all watched him die.” 

Regina was right.  The situation made no sense.  Oh, the queen had explained that there was magic inherent in a self-sacrifice, perhaps magic enough to save Rumplestiltskin’s life when he’d killed Pan to save others, _but_ that magic should have been utterly incompatible with dark magic, which was what he must have used to kill Pan.  And Belle knew enough about the curse of the Dark One to know that it couldn’t be broken without killing the Dark One or without True Love’s kiss, and the later definitely hadn’t happened that day.  True Love’s kiss wouldn’t work in Storybrooke, anyway; Rumplestiltskin had explained that to her once, in vague terms, about how much of his curse remained trapped in the Enchanted Forest, so they could kiss all they liked without affecting his powers.  

Only curses created in Storybrooke could be broken in Storybrooke had been his theory, or at least where the old and powerful ones were concerned.  But his curse obviously _was_ broken—the face under the blood and the bruises was human, the torn skin pale and flesh colored.  His eyes were so very human, too, full of pain when they were open but the same ones she remembered filled with such warmth every time they turned to her.  Just looking at Rumplestiltskin hurt, knowing he was in so much pain and unable to help him at all. 

All she could do was hold him and hope he hung on long enough for Tinker Bell to arrive. 

“Do you think he has another couple of hours?” she asked quietly, hating how tiny her voice sounded. 

Looking regretful, Regina shook her head silently.  Belle bit her lip again, blinking back tears. 

“Can we call another fairy?” Robin asked suddenly.  “Someone who might get here faster?” 

“You can try,” Regina snorted.  “It goes without saying that none of them will come to me.” 

Neither of them bothered to mention that the fairies wouldn’t come to Belle, either; in their opinion, she’d been tainted by her association with Rumplestiltskin, even when they’d thought him dead.  Robin might stand a chance of summoning one of them, however; the outlaw was enough of a hero type that the fairies probably would like him. 

“Right then.  I’ll go try.”

 

****************

 

No fairies answered, even the Blue Fairy when Robin tried to call her.  Belle supposed she shouldn’t be surprised; Blue had all but told them she would be out of touch for months, and that the humans in the Enchanted Forest would have to fight the war by themselves while she prepared the fairies for something she would not explain.  Still, the fairies’ inaction rankled, and for once she could see that Regina was in perfect agreement with her.  Fairies were supposed to _help_ people, but sometimes it seemed like they only did so when it coincided with their agenda, whatever it was.  Robin looked at the pair oddly when they voiced that thought, but Regina only shook her head, scowling, while Belle returned her attention to Rumplestiltskin.  

Tinker Bell arrived early, just three hours later, stumbling through the door and looking exhausted.  But her wand was in hand already, and Regina had met her outside to explain, so Belle only looked up at her hopefully.  Against all odds, Rumplestiltskin had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last hour or so, mostly coherent but obviously in too much pain to say much.  Belle only held him as tightly as she dared, whispering to him to hold on when she thought he could hear her.  He replied a few times, his words sometimes disjointed and sometimes making sense, but he was still in there, somewhere. 

“I’ll have to get those bands off before I can do anything,” Tink explained softly, her green outfit an odd shade of aquamarine in the harsh blue light.  “They’re definitely fairy magic— _dark_ fairy magic.” 

“Can you help him?” Belle asked, her heart pounding in her chest. 

“I can stabilize him, at least,” the fairy replied, lifting her wand as she crouched next to Belle.  “I’m pretty tired, and healing this many injuries isn’t as simple as just shaking your wand.  More will have to wait, I’m afraid.” 

Ruthlessly, Belle shoved down her own disappointment.  “Anything will help.” Stabilizing him meant Rumplestiltskin would be in less pain, at least.  Didn’t it? 

“Right, then.”  

Tink lifted her wand, and it began to glow, filling the hut with a green glimmer that easily overpowered Regina’s ball of light.  Slowly, she bought the tip of the wand down on the band around Rumplestiltskin’s right wrist, and when that began to glow, shifted her wand to the one on his left wrist.  Although both started glowing green, like the magic from Tink’s wand, their shine slowly grew darker, until the bands shimmered only slightly, an odd mixture of bronze and black.  Then Rumplestiltskin let out a sharp whimper, and both snapped open, falling off his wrists and to the floor. 

“Don’t touch them,” Tink ordered, moving onto the bands around his ankles.  The same process repeated itself for those, but this time Rumplestiltskin convulsed in pain as they came off, his head snapping back hard in Belle’s lap.  She squeezed his fingers gently, but he seemed not to notice. 

Without a further word, Tinker Bell moved onto the band around his neck, impossibly tight as it was.  Belle briefly wondered why Tink hadn’t started there, though she supposed that the fairy might have wanted to save the hardest one for last, for once she had enough experience to know that she could get it off quickly.  Either way, Tinker Bell’s wand touched down after only a moment’s hesitation.  Much to Belle’s surprise, Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flew open the moment the wand made contact, and he cried out in pain as the band started to shimmer.  His entire body jerked once, and then twice, and Belle could hear him struggling for air. 

Finally, the band snapped open, and a flick of Tink’s wand pulled it away from Belle’s lap, gathering it up with the other four bands and moving the group off to the side.  But Belle’s attention wasn’t on them; she was too busy watching as Rumplestiltskin slumped.  

“Rumple?” she whispered frantically.  His eyes were closed again, and he was shaking weakly. 

“…still here.” 

She let out an explosive breath of relief, squeezing his hand again.  Meanwhile, Tinker Bell raised her wand once more, studying Rumplestiltskin’s face. 

“Ready?” the fairy asked him, receiving a faint nod in response.  “Good.  I have to warn you—this might hurt a bit.” 

Belle thought he tried to laugh, but Tink’s wand had already started moving.  Its tip began to glow green once more, but the moment the shimmering green dust started moving towards Rumplestiltskin, a burst of red, black, and gold magic leapt off him, hammering into the fairy.  Tink crashed into the far wall before she even had a chance to cry out, but the wave of magic slammed into Regina and Robin as well, sending both flying into the same wall. 

Belle was left unharmed, left to watch as Rumplestiltskin cried out in shock and in pain, convulsing in her arms. 

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! Today’s question is: what do you think that odd magic leaping off Rumplestiltskin was? And if you think you’ve got that one figured out, how do you think Hook is going to convince Emma to come back to the Enchanted Forest with him? The answers to both those questions will be in Chapter 5: “Inherent Powers”. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	6. Inherent Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumplestiltskin discovers he doesn't have the answers he's looking for and Hook tries to win over Emma (via Henry).

**_Chapter Five—“Inherent Powers”_ **

 

“What the _hell_ was that?” Regina demanded from where she was splayed against the far wall.  To her left, Tink made a small sound that sounded like it might be a similar question, blinking dizzily.  Robin only groaned. 

Belle could only stare at the three of them; she had no answers.  The violent wave of magic hadn’t touched her, though she’d watched it leap away from Rumplestiltskin and attack the other three, flinging them away with enough force that Belle had heard the heavy stone wall tremble.  The red-gold-black cloud dissipated once it hit the others, but not before Belle _felt_ the power in her very bones, vibrating and vicious.  Wide-eyed, she looked down at Rumplestiltskin, who had been convulsing only a moment before but had now gone still.  

“Rump—” 

Her question cut itself off when blue light started crackling over his body.  Rumplestiltskin winced, coughing sharply, before his expression went frighteningly still, and had he not let out a ragged breath, Belle might have worried that the magic had killed him.  It did continue to spark its way what she could see of his body, flashing brilliantly in the dim light of the hut.  However, as she watched, his breathing slowed and eased.  The ever-present trembling calmed, too, and before Belle’s shocked eyes, the bruises and the cuts on his face started knitting themselves together.  One by one, almost as if she was watching the injuries happen in reverse, the wounds started to vanish.  And the dried blood vanished with it. 

A little color had even returned to his face by the time Regina, Tink, and Robin managed to stagger back over to where Belle still sat with Rumplestiltskin in her arms.  He was still deathly pale, but Belle had a feeling that if she pulled back the blanket wrapped around him, Rumplestiltskin’s other wounds would be closing as well.  Her heart hammered in her chest, hopeful and terrified all at the same time.  Minutes earlier, they’d been worried that he might die—but something was _healing_ him.  Had Tink done this?  Holding her breath, she glanced up at the fairy and the sorceress, but they both seemed to be waiting, too.  Waiting and hoping. 

“I seem to be saying this a lot, but would someone care to explain what is going on?” Robin asked after several moments of silence. 

“That isn’t fairy magic,” Regina replied. 

“Definitely not,” Tink agreed.  “I didn’t do this.  And it’s still…working.” 

Robin made a face at both magic users.  “Fascinating though I’m sure that information is, it’s not _terribly_ useful for the laymen amongst us.” 

Part of Belle wanted to laugh; the rest of her wasn’t sure if sobbing was more appropriate.  Not knowing what was happening was terrifying, particularly as Rumplestiltskin’s breathing quieted still further.  Finally, the blue magic faded away, leaving him wearing an almost peaceful expression.  Heart in her throat, she leaned over to plant another soft kiss on his forehead.  

“Rumple?” Belle whispered. 

His lips twitched slightly before his eyes opened, _opened_ and not squinted, warm and brown and so very human.  They were clear, too, not shadowed by pain or by the months of horrors he’d endured, and focused on her.  “Hey.” 

“Hey yourself,” Belle managed to say around a grin so big that her face hurt, and he _smiled_ at her.  Her heart did a backflip, giddy and painful and wonderful all at the same time. 

Belle had forgotten that she was still holding his hand until his fingers tightened around hers, and now she had to blink back tears of happiness.  Despite her efforts, a few escaped, trickling down her cheeks, warm and wet.  Rumplestiltskin was alive.  He was _back_ , and even if she had a thousand and one questions for him—and she did, there was no doubt about that—he was going to _live_.  Compared to that, nothing else mattered. 

“Don’t cry,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, freeing a hand to touch her face.  His voice still sounded rough, scratchier and deeper than usual, but it wasn’t the high-pitched voice from the Enchanted Forest.  He was still human. 

“I’m crying because I’m _happy_ , you idiot,” she managed to respond as his fingers brushed against her cheek, and Belle leaned into his touch.  His hand shook slightly, but it was whole, free of wounds and blood both.  

“Well, I’m not _un_ happy,” Rumplestiltskin quipped in response, and Belle’s giggle sounded suspiciously like a sob.  His hand cupped her cheek for a moment before falling again.  She felt so happy that she could fly.  

Regina, of course, ruined the moment with common sense. 

“Some of us are still waiting for explanations, Rumplestiltskin,” the queen said pointedly.  “What the hell just happened?” 

Belle felt him stiffen in her arms, blinking hard before he put on a lazy smile that she knew was an act.  “Why, magic, of course.” 

“That’s not helpful.” 

“Well, it appears that I am not quite as powerless as one might assume,” Rumplestiltskin replied lightly, but Belle knew him well enough to know that there were legions of details he wasn’t going into. 

“How?” Regina demanded.  “You said your curse was broken.  Did you lie?” 

“I wouldn’t be looking like this if I had, dearie.”  The words came out with something like his old snarkiness, but Belle could feel the tension in him as Rumplestiltskin sat up, still wrapped in the blanket and nothing else.  “But three centuries of studying magic does come in useful at times.” 

“What _was_ that?” Tink put in, studying Rumplestiltskin with an intensity that set Belle’s teeth on edge.  Of course _she_ could tell that Rumplestiltskin was skirting the truth with his typical aplomb, but the expression on Tinker Bell’s face told her that the fairy was also suspicious. 

“Magic.  What else?” 

“That wasn’t normal magic,” the fairy persisted, and Belle thought she felt a tremor race through Rumplestiltskin’s shoulders. 

He sneered, making Belle remember that there were some things she really _hadn’t_ missed about Rumplestiltskin.  “It’s always nice to have the opinion of a fairy.” 

“Rumple,” she admonished him, but Tink didn’t even blink. 

“ _What_ was that?” Tinker Belle repeated very slowly, fingering her wand.  Rumplestiltskin, however, merely chuckled, but this time Belle _did_ feel him shake, ever so slightly. 

“Ah.  Well, I’m afraid I shall have to put off answering your questions until another day.  For now, we need to concentrate on getting out of here, because believe me when I say that none of us want to be around when your distant relatives return.” 

“The fae have been gone for centuries,” Regina objected, but even she didn’t sound so certain now. 

“Believe it or not as you please, but I assure you that my…hosts were definitely fae,” Rumplestiltskin replied, and Belle watched his face tighten and his eyes shut for a moment.  She squeezed the hand she still held, moving her other hand to his back to offer support, and Rumplestiltskin smiled sardonically as his eyes opened once more.  “And they’ll be back before too long.  We don’t want to be here then.” 

“You’d prefer to run rather than fight?” Regina said dubiously, and there wasn’t a soul in the room who didn’t think she was baiting him.  “That doesn’t sound like the Rumple I know.” 

He rolled his eyes.  “Good try, dear, but in case you never noticed it about me, I’d prefer to _think_ my way out of a situation instead of using raw power to solve my problems.  That’s always been your specialty.” 

The queen shrugged, unrepentant.  “I had to try.” 

“And are you convinced now that I am who I say I am?” 

“I suppose there’s no one else who could be as completely _maddening_ as you are,” she retorted, and Belle felt him chuckle softly again. 

Why did she get the impression that he was laughing because it was expected, and not because he found any genuine humor in their conversation?  Rumplestiltskin had always enjoyed his verbal sparring with Regina, but now Belle got the feeling that he was doing so because he felt he _ought_ to, rather than because he wanted to.  Perhaps because they expected it? 

Still, even if he was acting a bit off, Belle knew the infuriating man well enough that he’d get up and prance around naked if she didn’t remind him about his current state of undress.  Knowing Rumplestiltskin, he’d forgotten that he didn’t have any clothes on, but he’d be mortified if he let Regina see him so vulnerable.  He’d brush it off with some clever quip, of course, because he was nothing if not a genius at hiding his own feelings behind nasty humor, behind the mask of the monster.  But in the end he’d be furious at himself for the oversight. 

“Rumple,” she whispered into his ear, quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear, leaning close to his shoulder and stopping him before he could start to get up.  “You haven’t got any clothes on.” 

He turned to look at her, their faces so close that she could kiss him, and Belle could see him wanting to deny the fact that he’d forgotten all about that problem plain as day on his face.  But then he smiled tiredly.  “What _would_ I do without you?” 

“Feel a terrible draft,” she replied with a grin, unable to bite back her giggles. 

A long second passed before Rumplestiltskin chuckled with her, though at least this time his laugh sounded more natural.  Belle wasn’t sure which one of them moved towards the other first, but after a moment their foreheads were touching, and she closed her eyes, savoring the closeness.  Belle felt his tiny smile.  “So I would.” 

Pulling his left hand away from her right, Rumplestiltskin twirled his fingers just so, and the blanket he’d been wrapped in shimmered into red smoke, surrounding them both.  As the smoke dissipated, it left him clad in very familiar clothing.  The leathers weren’t the black Belle remembered seeing him come back from Neverland, however; they were the warm browns she recalled from her time in the Dark Castle, from his leather pants and high boots to the dragonhide coat.  The old look contrasted a little oddly with the new human face, but Belle supposed that a three-piece suit wouldn’t have fit in very well in the Enchanted Forest, anyway. 

Besides, she had missed the old smell of leather and the slight tingle under her fingers when she touched him, the underlying feeling of power and mystery.  There was something _intoxicating_ about that power and always had been, and even though Belle did her best to encourage him to be a better man, to be the man she’d always seen hidden beneath the darkness, she knew the power was a part of him, too.  Tinker Bell had been right, however; even Belle could feel that this wasn’t normal magic.  There was something… _different_ about him.  Was it fact that he was finally free of his curse, or was it something else entirely? 

She’d ask him later.  Privately, where his desire to keep Regina and anyone else guessing couldn’t get in the way of honesty.  Now, she just smiled.  “Much better.” 

“Indeed it is.”  Rumplestiltskin rose and Belle stood with him, noticing that he was slightly shaky but hiding it well.  Still, the lines around his eyes were deeper than usual, and she could feel the slight tremble when she took his right hand.  But he turned to the others with something like his old confidence.  “I believe thanks are in order, to all of you.  You saved my life.” 

Regina blinked, but Belle still heard the odd edge in Rumplestiltskin’s voice.  _Ask later,_ she told herself, trying not to worry.  Of course he’d be a little off.  He’d been tortured for a year.  The better question was how he was acting so _normally_. 

He wasn’t, of course.  This was just another mask he could hide behind, but he seemed to know what Belle was thinking, because a squeeze of her hand cut Belle off before she could say anything. 

“Are you actually expressing gratitude?” Regina asked, but Belle could hear no ire in her words.  Like Belle, the queen was probably trying to fill the awkward silence with something familiar. 

“Don’t get too used to it,” he retorted.  Surprisingly, Regina grinned, but she didn’t get a chance to respond before Robin spoke up warily: 

“Uh.  So this is…?”  Judging from Robin’s face, he clearly knew the answer to his question, uncomfortable though that made him.  Still, remembering the circumstances of their last meeting, Belle supposed she couldn’t blame the outlaw. 

“Rumplestiltskin,” her love provided succinctly.  

Robin blinked.  “About before…” 

Rumplestiltskin waved a hand, cutting him off.  “Bae told me.” 

“That’s it?”  The outlaw stared. 

“Would you prefer there to be something more?” he countered, and Belle was gratified to see his eyes actually dancing with real humor.  “I can turn you into something small and crawly if you like.” 

“No!” Robin looked horrified even as Regina snarled: 

“Don’t you _dare_ , Rumplestiltskin.” 

Belle almost opened her mouth to explain the interesting Regina-Robin relationship, but when Regina stepped protectively close to the outlaw, she saw there was no need.  Rumplestiltskin’s gaze darted between the two momentarily, and a sly smile crossed his face.  “Is that how it is, then?” 

“Do you have a problem with that?” Regina demanded. 

“Oh, no.  No problem at all.”  His face became the picture of innocence, and Belle shot him a stern look.  He was _playing_ with people again, and while she was quite certain Regina could handle herself, poor Robin was another matter. 

“Be nice,” she said. 

Rumplestiltskin turned his head to look at her.  “I shall be on my best behavior,” he promised. 

“You’d better,” Belle whispered, and felt his hand squeeze hers again.  She’d take him however she found him, of course; having thought she lost Rumplestiltskin really did make her inclined to forgive even his most grievous faults, and well, he _hadn’t_ turned Robin into something nasty, and obviously hadn’t even meant the threat.  The next words came out before she could stop them.  “Can I kiss you here?” 

She burned to, of course, and he said his curse was broken.  He looked human enough, and his skin felt human under her fingers, but there was obviously something Rumplestiltskin wasn’t saying, and she wasn’t about to rob him of his power simply because she wanted a _kiss._   Belle had been a foolish girl back when she’d thought kissing him could free him of the darkness that gripped his soul without impacting anything else; she’d never even thought that doing so might make him lose his magic and the chance to find the son he’d lost.  Back then, she’d thought True Love could cure anything.  Now, Belle understood that all magic _did_ come with a price, even that. 

“Of course,” he replied just as softly, and Belle eagerly complied, her free hand coming up to bury itself in his hair as their lips touched.

 

****************

 

Killian had hopedthe kiss would work, but at heart, he was a practical man.  He had a romantic streak a mile wide, yes, but he was also a pirate, and pirates dealt in what _worked_ , not what they hoped would do the trick.  So, he’d made alternate plans.  Had they sent Baelfire, the younger man might have been foolish enough to depend upon True Love’s kiss releasing Emma’s trapped memories, but Killian Jones was made of sneakier stuff than that.  So he befriended young Mr. Mills (fascinated though he was by the fact that he was Henry _Swan_ in this world), and waited. 

Two weeks into their acquaintance, his patience bore fruit.  Apparently this Henry had the same liking for parks that the one in Storybrooke had possessed—Regina had been spot-on with that assessment—and thus Killian found himself sitting with the lad in Central Park while Emma was off at work.  She’d done quite well for herself in the last year, and part of him regretted interfering in the life she’d built with her son, but it was all a lie, and the pair of them deserved the truth. 

He had always possessed an odd sense of honor for a pirate, Killian supposed.  Here he was, doing the _right_ thing and working to restore Emma’s memories, when a proper rogue would simply try to sweep her off her feet and join her and Henry in their life here.  Not that trying to do so didn’t have its own temptations—for one, he rather appreciated the way women commonly wore such tight trousers in this world, and Killian particularly appreciated _Emma_ in such trousers—but he was here for a reason.  Emma had spent a lifetime looking for her family, and her family needed her now.  They were all in danger, and if bringing the Savior back couldn’t help them win this war, Killian couldn’t think of anything else that might. 

“Have you ever wondered if there’s something not quite right about your life, mate?” Killian asked Henry as the thirteen year old boy absentmindedly threw stale bread at birds. 

“Sometimes.  Yeah, I guess,” Henry replied, scoring another point for Regina.  The queen had said that it would be Henry who would know something was wrong, not because she’d given him less complete memories, but because Henry _always_ noticed. 

“What if I told you’re not wrong?” 

Henry shot him the kind of doubting look only a child could manage.  “You can’t tell me that my dreams are real.  They’re all about _fairy_ tales.” 

“Well, fairies are certainly real, though they don’t have tails,” Killian replied with a smile, earning himself another dirty look. 

“Never mind,” Henry snapped.  “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, anyway.  They’re only dreams.” 

“But they aren’t.”  Killian had to speak quickly; he knew he was losing the boy already.  Henry was far more open-minded than his mother, but just as stubborn.  Henry stood up, ready to leave, and Killian blurted out the next words.  “My left hand is fake.” 

“What?” At least that made the boy turn to look at him. 

“Fake.  I usually wear a hook, but it’s not really fashionable in this world.  Not like it is at home, anyway.” 

Henry stared at him, and oh, yes.  That trick always worked on children.  They were _always_ fascinated by the hook.  Not that he’d used it on any children, other than as a conversation gambit, or as a bit of a distraction.  He wasn’t that type of pirate, thank you very much. 

“Tell me, Henry.  Do you have dreams of an Evil Queen who cast a curse, sending people from various ‘fairy tales’ to this world?”  He was guessing, based solely on what Henry had said about fairy tales and dreams, but it must have been a good guess, because Henry’s eyes went wide. 

That, and Regina had said that their real memories might just manifest themselves as dreams, if they were present at all in this new world.  Score two for Regina, apparently.  The lovely queen would never let him live this one down.  _I really do hate it when she’s right._   Regina would be insufferable for weeks, but at least enduring her gloating would be worth it.  Hopefully. 

“How do you know?” Henry asked, sitting down so fast that Killian worried he might break the park bench. 

He smiled his best roguish smile.  “Because I’ve lived them, mate.” 

After that, and some more explanations, it was child’s play to convince young Henry to slip the Blue Fairy’s potion into a drink for himself and his mother after Emma got off work that day.  Killian swore that the potion would do them no harm, of course—it wouldn’t; had he or someone else drank it, it would have just tasted like slightly salty water—and Henry decided to trust him after Killian demonstrated that fact by imbibing some of the aforementioned potion.  Emma had always been a skeptic, so it had been easy to convince the Blue Fairy to mix up a little extra in case she needed convincing.  

Henry promised to slip his mother the potion that evening—some things about the lad never did seem to change, but knowing his maternal grandparents the way Killian now did, he supposed it wasn’t such a surprise.  So, Killian walked the boy home and settled in across the street of the Swans’ apartment building to wait until Henry waved at him from the window.  Soon enough he’d restore their memories, and then he’d take them back to where they belonged.  Assuming Emma didn’t get irrational and dig her heels in, of course.  But he could deal with her at her worst; he’d done so before and was almost looking forward to another round. 

Hopefully, he’d win Miss Swan’s heart in the process.  Fighting with her usually did do the trick.

 

****************

 

Had Belle’s hand touched the back of his neck a moment earlier, Rumplestiltskin might have pulled away from her entirely.  Too many memories of pain started with a hand on the back of his neck, with _her_ speaking softly in his ear, speaking words that made no sense even in the context of his befuddled mind.  Belle didn’t know that, of course, and he couldn’t blame her for his own mostly-irrational fears, but her gentle touch still almost made him jerk away.  Had her lips not touched his within a second of her hand reaching his neck, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from flinching away. 

But their kiss _did_ stop him. 

It wasn’t just that he needed her desperately, much though he did.  It wasn’t just that thinking of her had kept him sane when he’d been able to think, and it wasn’t just because he loved Belle so much that it hurt.  No.  It was True Love’s kiss. 

Power whipped through him like electricity, lighting every sense of magic that he had on fire.  Sheer, pure _magic_ raced through his system, burning away the darkness that _she_ had so carefully imbedded.  Rumplestiltskin hadn’t even known that the traps were there, hadn’t had long enough with these confusing new powers—because despite what he’d said to Regina, he had _no_ idea where this came from—to understand that she had dug her claws, her magic, into his very soul.  One kiss from Belle was enough to burn that darkness away.  It was enough to make him tremble against her, feeling weak and strong all at the same time.  And even pushing that realization aside, the power singing through him was extraordinary. 

He’d only felt this once, and had cut it short, terrified and lonely and so _certain_ it had to be a lie.  Certain that no one could love him.  Maybe his curse had only strengthened his fears then; maybe it hadn’t.  But now Rumplestiltskin could close his eyes and relax, could accept the fact that Belle loved him the way he loved her, could hold her and know that this was _real._   

 _“There’s endless possibilities.  Countless paths you might take,” Belle had said to him back in Storybrooke, back before everything went straight to hell and when they’d thought they might have everything._

_He’d smiled at her, feeling at peace for the first time in his very long life. “But there’s only one of those paths I’m interested in.”_

_“And which one is that?”_

_“The one where you and I are together.”_ It was as true then as it was now.Belle _did_ make him stronger.  But more than that, she brought him peace. 

Maybe he did have a future now.  Pan certainly _had_ been his undoing—but perhaps that didn’t mean his death, much though he’d expected it to.  Rumplestiltskin was no longer the Dark One; his curse was broken, and yet he was in possession of a new and frightening magic, one that had ripped into him and healed him when he hadn’t the capacity to do it himself (or even the knowledge that he _could_ touch magic; until it had suddenly raced through him, Rumplestiltskin had considered himself completely blind in that respect).  The fact that he had no idea what or where this new magic would take him was more than a little unsettling, but he did know that wherever his life became, he wanted to share it with her. 

Belle sighed softly against his lips, and Rumplestiltskin smiled.  She buried her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close.  “I missed you so much,” Belle whispered. 

“And I you,” he breathed.  Her hair smelled wonderful, and holding her felt like coming home.  And perhaps it was. 

They stood in silence for several long moments, just clinging to one another, before Regina cleared her throat.  Part of Rumplestiltskin was tempted to flat out ignore his old student, but he knew that doing so was foolish at the moment.  Letting Regina know how emotionally wrecked he was would only give her an advantage, and although they’d been allies as of late, he had no intention of granting her that type of hold over him.  Old habits died hard. 

Swallowing back his regret, Rumplestiltskin pulled back from Belle, giving her a small smile as he did so.  She returned it, immediately slipping her right hand into his left and squeezing lightly. 

She knew him too well, Rumplestiltskin realized, not for the first time.  Belle’s blue eyes read his soul as easily as they read any one of her many books, but she was refraining from asking right now, for which he was exceedingly grateful.  Belle wouldn’t let him keep secrets forever, and he _liked_ to think that he knew better than to try to keep important matters from her.  Of course, he was Rumplestiltskin, and he wasn’t particularly good about learning crucial emotional lessons, and when he did, they didn’t seem to stick.  Still, he had tried to promise them both that he’d listen to her from now on, and he meant to keep that promise. 

“Now what?” Belle asked him. 

Regina and her outlaw were looking at him expectantly, too.  _Back from the supposedly dead for all of a few hours, and somehow I’m in charge,_ he thought with a more natural feeling crooked smile.  Perhaps if he pretended he was all right long enough, truth might follow the lie.  _Fabulous._  

“Now we get out of here,” he replied decisively, and was glad to see that no one argued.  Rumplestiltskin looked at Robin Hood.  “How many men do you have with you?” 

“Nine,” the outlaw replied promptly.  “Ten, now, counting you.” 

A bemused smile snuck onto his face as Rumplestiltskin nodded, realizing that he was missing some crucial information.  “And, uh, where exactly are we?” 

“You don’t know?” Regina asked with surprise. 

“This is the first time I’ve seen anywhere other than that cellar in…how long has it been?” 

“A year,” Belle answered him softly.  “Almost exactly.” 

 _One year._   Rumplestiltskin’s mind wanted to fold in on itself, wanted to find a corner to hide in and scream out the pain and the terror.  He’d been there a _year_.  The thought alone made his heart beat faster, and it could feel it trying to spiral out of control.  _Thump._ An entire _year_ had passed.  _Thump.  Thump._  

Oh.  That thrumming wasn’t just his heart; it was magic, potent and strong, hammering alongside his emotions and threatening to escape his control.  Forcing in a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin shoved his worries and fears aside, shoved away the memories of pain and forced himself to focus, clinging to Belle’s hand.  It was almost like the early days of the curse, when he knew nothing about magic and had to fight to contain his emotions, lest he unconsciously lash out with powers he could not control.  Magic was emotion, he’d taught all of his students, having learned those lessons himself the hard way.  Slowly, carefully, he let the breath out.  He would not go through that again.  Not here.  Not now. 

“I see,” he forced himself to say levelly.  Forced the magic back into its bottle.  And then he made his fingers loosen on Belle’s so that he didn’t crush her smaller hand with his own.  “So, Regina, you were about to tell me where we are.” 

“Bremen.  About two weeks’ journey from the Dark Castle.  If you push it.” 

“I see.”  The name of the town rang a very vague bell, but it wasn’t somewhere he’d been before, or at least not recently.  Two weeks’ of walking was a long time for the fae to catch up with them; that wouldn’t do at all.  And why had Regina used the Dark Castle as her landmark?  There were too many factors that he couldn’t classify; obviously a lot of things had happened during the last year, and he had absolutely no idea what was going on. 

That was not a feeling he enjoyed. 

“We’re deep in the Witch’s territory,” Robin added. 

“The Witch?  Which witch?” That made him frown. 

“The Wicked Witch of the West,” Regina explained with a scowl.  “From Oz, apparently.  Or that’s what the rumors say, anyway.  Jefferson says he met her there, and the experience wasn’t pleasant.” 

 _That_ title Rumplestiltskin recognized, at least.  But he’d always been better with people than geography, particularly when the individuals in question were magic users worth keeping track of.  “What in the world is Zelena doing here?” 

“Zelena?” Belle echoed, just as Regina asked: 

“You know her?” 

“Of course I do.” 

Regina made an exasperated noise.  “Well, we’re at war with her.  While we were gone, she managed to take over most of the Enchanted Forest.  Somehow, she’s gained dominion of the ogres and a host of other nasty creatures, and we’re fighting to take each kingdom back bit by bit.” 

“Fascinating.” 

“Is that all you have to say?” Robin demanded, looking offended.  “We’re in the middle of a war we’re losing.  Countless people are dying and you find it _fascinating?_ ” 

 _Hero types._ Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes and immediately regretted doing so as his head started to pound.  _There’s time for that later.  Focus!_   With an effort, he managed to make his voice sound dispassionate.  “No, I find it fascinating because Zelena doesn’t have the power to pull that off on her own.  Someone or something else is behind her.” 

“Is this where you’re going to go on about the fae again?  Because we really don’t have any evidence that they’re alive, let alone working with the Witch,” Regina cut in impatiently. 

“That _was_ dark fairy magic,” Tinker Bell pointed out.  “That usually means the fae.” 

“No, it means someone using a fae’s wand,” Regina corrected her.  “Why would the fae bother to show up after hiding for centuries, only to work with the Wicked Witch of the West?   It doesn’t make any sense.”  She shot Rumplestiltskin a glare.  “That’s something _he_ would know if he wasn’t so off his head at the moment.” 

But there was something he was missing.  Something he should _know_ , but couldn’t begin to put his finger on.  His mind was still too muddled, so Rumplestiltskin just waved Regina’s protests away with an irritated shake of his head.  “I’m not going to argue with you right now, Regina.  In fact—” 

Without warning, a man burst into the stone hut, disheveled and panicked.  He was dressed in forest greens, armed with a sword and bow both, somewhat dirty but not ill-kept.  Another outlaw, then.  He was graying slightly, long-limbed and built more like an archer than a swordsman, and pulled up short when he saw an unexpected fourth person in the hut. 

“What is it, Alan?” Robin asked, jerking the newcomer out of his shock. 

“I don’t know,” Alan replied, staring warily at Rumplestiltskin.  “There’s something in the sky.  Something coming.  It’s like black clouds covering up the stars and—” 

Shoving past him and out the door, Rumplestiltskin never heard the rest of the description.  Regina was right on his heels, obviously thinking along the same lines, and they emerged from the hut to see a distant, distinctly magical cloud formation rolling over the forest and heading towards Bremen.  Fast. 

“A curse?” Regina asked as the others tumbled out of the hut. 

He shook his head.  “Nothing so complicated as that, I think.  You don’t need a curse when raw power will suffice.”  Rumplestiltskin glanced up at the sky, pushed his inner demons aside as he felt power and awareness shimmering through his veins, and knew the answer.  “Raw power bent on the destruction of everyone and everything here.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has continued to read! Please take the time to drop me a line and tell me what you think of this story - I'm new to the OUAT fandom and would love the feedback.


	7. Power Over Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hook finally gets a chance to talk to Emma without her kneeing him, Rumplestiltskin learns a bit more about magic, and David proves himself to be a hero (again).

**_Chapter Six—“Power Over Distance”_ **

 

“Miss Swan, it’s so good to see you ag—” 

Emma hit him, of course.  Killian had more or less figured that he’d have that coming, and had even tried to brace himself for the blow.  But he’d forgotten what a mean right hook Emma Swan possessed, and the punch sent him reeling.  His back smacked against the wall across from her apartment’s door before he could catch himself, too.  Hard. 

“Ow,” he complained, rubbing his jaw.  But he straightened immediately; a man did have his pride, after all.  “May I come in?” 

“You bastard,” Emma swore.  “You used my _son_ to trick me into drinking your memory juice?  I ought to have you arrested!” 

Well, that wasn’t exactly an auspicious beginning.  Killian cringed.  “In fairness to me, I somehow doubt that a newly skeptical Emma Swan would believe my tale—evidenced by the way you greeted me two weeks ago—and a wise man uses the tool most suited to the task—” 

“Oh, so now my son is a _tool!_ ” Emma thundered.  Henry snickered. 

“Should we invite him in before the neighbors start talking, Mom?” the wise young man asked. 

“Oh.  Right.”  Some of Emma’s obvious anger deflated, and she gestured Killian in.  Then she snapped: “I’m still angry at you, though.” 

He grinned.  “You usually are, love.” 

“Didn’t you hear me?” she snapped, planting a hand in the center of his chest and shoving him backwards as she closed the door.  “I said ‘angry.’  Not ‘feeling romantically inclined’ towards marauding pirates.  _Angry_.” 

“Oh, come now.  I only kissed you because I hoped it would restore your memories,” Killian tried to argue reasonably.  Of course, Emma’s eyebrows went up. 

“Only?” she challenged him. 

“Well, I did _want_ to kiss you.  Can you blame me?”  Seeing his chance, Killian swept in, figuring that the worst another try for a kiss could bring him was a knee to the groin, and he’d suffered far worse in the name of love.   It was worth a try. 

Thankfully, Emma only shoved him back again, dodging past him and into the living room.  “Angry, remember?” 

“Pity.” 

“Can we get to the Enchanted Forest part of this conversation?” Henry interjected, clearly uncomfortable with the way Killian was trying to romance his mother.  The boy did have a point, Killian figured, so he took a deep breath and vowed to try again later.  Perhaps once he had Henry near Regina.  That would distract the lad well enough to give him a chance to properly woo Emma. 

“That’s probably a _really_ good idea, kid,” Emma replied, shooting Killian another glare.  But he could see that she wasn’t really angry; she was just frustrated.  “Last time you said something about my family being in danger.  Was that just you being all dramatic?” 

“Alas, no.”  Killian sighed.  “I’m afraid that I’m going to be the bearer of bad news.  Again.” 

“What happened?” Henry asked before he could go on.  “I thought that with the curse broken, everyone going home would mean things went back to the way they were, and…” 

“So we hoped,” he cut the lad of, sitting down on the couch.  “Unfortunately, we were wrong.  We returned to a conquered land.  A Witch of great power came from another realm, and in the time between when you and your mother were back in the Enchanted Forest and our return, she used creatures of unimaginable evil to conquer every kingdom.  The few people who remained behind—and there were more than we thought—have been forced to become her slaves.  Your parents, Miss Swan, have of course been leading the fight against her.  But it hasn’t been easy.” 

Emma eyed him uneasily.  “What aren’t you saying?” 

“We fear that it’s only going to get worse,” Killian grimaced.  “There was a seer who tried to help us before the Witch had her killed.  She foretold that ‘original powers are rising’ or some such babbling, and that the ‘original darkness will seek to cover the land.’  I don’t recall the exact wording; they’ve got it written down at home.  But we need you.  It’s not just your family that’s in danger.  It’s _everyone_ , love.” 

“That sounds…pleasant,” Emma ground out between gritted teeth.  Then she gave Hook a sharp look.  “Why’d they send you?” 

“Aside from my devilishly handsome looks and irresistible charm?  I volunteered.” 

“Yeah, but why _you_ , Hook?” Clearly, Emma wasn’t going to let him charm his way out of giving a complete answer, and she pressed onwards.  “Why not, you know, one of my parents?  I’d be less inclined to punch them.” 

Killian sighed. “I’m probably not the one to tell you this, Miss Swan”—and wasn’t that the understatement of the last year—“but your lady mother is pregnant, and apparently travel by magical portal is inadvisable for women in such a delicate condition.  And your father’s off leading armies like the prince or king that he is.  Baelfire’s with him, and we can’t exactly spare Regina.  She’s the only _good_ sorceress we’ve got, strange though that sounds.” 

Emma might have heard the rest, but judging from the look on her face, she was still stuck on the first part.  And the fact that the shocked look on her face was _exactly_ mirrored by her son’s expression only made it more priceless.  Killian would have laughed, were the situation not so very serious.  That, and he thought Emma might hit him again, and one bruise on his face was enough for today. 

“My mother is…pregnant?” Emma managed to demand after a long moment of silence, just as Henry gaped: 

“I’m going to have an aunt or uncle that’s thirteen years _younger_ than me?” 

“Right on both counts, I’m afraid.” 

_I should have let them send Baelfire,_ Killian thought for the first time.  Awkward Charming family conversations were better left to others.  Even though he got along with Snow and the Prince these days—most of the time—this conversation was growing more uncomfortable by the moment, and he was quite certain that Baelfire deserved such discomfort more than he did.  He had fathered the lad, after all.  _Or Regina.  Regina would have sneered and asked her what else she might have expected, and Emma wouldn’t have hit_ Regina.  Or maybe she would have.  Killian distinctly remembered having heard something about the two of them coming to fisticuffs back before the first curse was broken.  He was terribly sorry he’d missed that sight; it had probably been completely alluring. 

“Okay.  Um.  Wow,” Emma said after a few more minutes in silence.  “So.  I’m the savior, right?  So that’s why you need me.” 

“Well, I do imagine that will help,” he answered with a shrug.  “Although honestly, no one is quite sure if the whole ‘savior’ business holds over with the curse broken.  Regina says it probably won’t, but her motives might be a _tad_ suspect.” 

“Then why come all this way to get us?” Henry demanded. 

Killian took a deep breath, and braced himself to be punched again. “Because there are indications that the _Witch_ wants you both.  Or possibly just Henry.  And we can’t let that happen.” 

At least Emma didn’t hit him, though she did wind up swearing to tear the Wicked Witch of the West to shreds if she dared touch one hair on Henry’s head.  (For the record, the lad did start looking rather unabashedly excited at the thought of combat in the Enchanted Forest, although Killian was careful not to draw Emma’s notice to that fact.  She was something like a rapid mother bear where protecting her offspring was concerned, and although he found that unaccountably sexy, he was not foolish enough to bait the beast, either.)  Thankfully, convincing Emma to return was _much_ easier than he’d anticipated, probably because she knew enough about magic to understand that if Hook could make it through, the Witch’s followers could, too. 

That meant Emma only wanted a day to tie up loose ends, which meant they were still running ahead of the schedule Snow had laid out for their return.  Emma said something about paying her rent and quitting her job, not to mention packing a few things that she and Henry really didn’t want to lose.  She _did_ immediately accept that they might very well be gone for forever, too, which was one of the arguments Snow had anticipated he’d have to have with her.  Fortunately, Snow didn’t seem to know everything there was to know about her daughter.  Killian found himself absurdly pleased by that; the others might not have thought he’d manage to bring Emma back _earlier_ than their best-case scenario, but he was happy to prove them wrong. 

He really hoped she hadn’t found love in this world, again.  The last thing he and Baelfire needed was a third man with a legitimate claim to Emma and Henry.  Matters were already complicated enough as they were.

 

****************

 

Three minutes.  By his calculations, that was all they had.  Perhaps four, if they were lucky, but probably not that long.  Luck didn’t seem to be something he had in abundance lately, anyway. 

“ _That’s_ just power?” Regina asked dubiously.  “Even you couldn’t have done that—well, before your curse was broken, anyway.” 

Rumplestiltskin shot her a nasty grin.  “I never said that was _human_ power, dearie.  You should pay closer attention.” 

He knew in his bones that it was _her._   Somehow, and he wasn’t as surprised by this realization as he wanted to be, she knew that rescuers had come for him.  Obviously she had no desire to come out personally and make an issue of it, but when capable of throwing power like that over long distances, why would she need to?  Rumplestiltskin could feel the oncoming rush of darkness, could feel the power vibrating down his spine and through the very earth they were standing on.  It was an impressive display of magic, made all the more impressive because the lighting flashing in those clouds was not for show.  _That_ was destruction, pure and simple. 

“This is really not the time for you to go on about the fae, Rumple,” Regina spat.  “I’m starting to wonder if you lost it entirely in there.” 

_So am I_ , he didn’t say, still surprised by the quietness in his own mind.  The curse really was gone, silent, _broken_ ; but then where did this power come from?  Where did the magic he could feel racing to his very fingertips begin?  More importantly, what was the price to be paid for it?  There was always a price, and no one knew that better than he.  And yet— 

A glance at the dark clouds rolling towards him made Rumplestiltskin wonder about the answer to that very same question.  What was the price for power such as that?  Every bit of magic that had ever been cast had a counter; there was nothing unbreakable, nothing unstoppable.  Power though that darkness held, it also was _only_ magic.  Fae or not, the same rules applied.  Much of the cost for fairy magic of any sort was consumed by fairy dust, but not all, and what remained was always the weakness of any spell.  The price for magic was always its weakest point. 

However, he must have spent a moment too long in contemplative silence, because Regina continued when he said nothing, her voice growing sharper. 

“We need to get out of here.” 

Rumplestiltskin shook his head as Belle and the two outlaws rushed up to them.  “There isn’t time.” 

“We can’t evacuate the entire town by the time that gets here,” Robin pointed out worriedly.  

For the first time, Rumplestiltskin bothered to look around himself.  The stone hut stood near the center of a small town, one not unlike the place he’d once lived.  Worried people were beginning to creep out of their houses, probably drawn by the outlaws’ shouts; either that, or the approaching dawn meant the start of a work day for most of them, and they couldn’t afford to sleep in.  Rumplestiltskin didn’t really care about these people—but Belle would, and besides, he’d never been one for the wholesale destruction of towns and their inhabitants.  After all, he’d once been one of the ‘little’ people who lived in such towns, and he remembered far too well what it was like to be trod on by those with greater powers than yourself.  Generally speaking, Rumplestiltskin had left the common folk alone, unless one of them was desperate enough and interesting enough to call upon him, and even then he usually extracted far less of a price from them than he did the nobility.  Perhaps it was the poor spinner in him shining through even the depths of the curse; once he’d left Hamelin and stopped tormenting his old neighbors, he’d never really started again. 

“We have to try,” Belle pointed out rather predictably.  

“The longer we stand here arguing, the less time we have.  Get everyone moving away from the clouds,” Regina ordered Robin, her face pale in the moonlight.  “I’ll see if I can’t slow it down.” 

Well, wasn’t that interesting.  Regina knew that it might kill her, and yet she’d try anyway.  His student really had come a long, long, way.  This kind of courage had always been inside her, of course; Rumplestiltskin had just done his dead level best to force her down a different road.  He’d succeeded, yet he was still rather satisfied to see Regina turning back to the type of woman she’d been meant to be—and would have been, had he and Cora not messed her up so thoroughly between the pair of them. 

“You can’t,” he told her quietly before Belle could say anything to him, the words coming with surprising ease.  Regina twisted to stare at him, but Rumplestiltskin only shrugged.  “Get back with the rest of them.  You, too, Belle.” 

“Are you crazy?” the queen snapped.  “You want me to run away and wait for that magic to snap you in half?  Whatever power you have is no greater than mine now that your curse is broken, and _you’ve_ just lived through a year of hell.  I’ll take my chances against that, thanks.” 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly.  “No need.” 

He wasn’t going to argue with her.  There wasn’t time.  The clouds were closer now, the lightning within them burning bright and deadly as townspeople fled towards the south end of the town, doing their best to get away from the magic as Robin’s outlaws tried to impose some small sense of order on the situation.  They were a quiet bunch, the people of Bremen.  Well cowed?  That was not his problem.  Tinker Bell was trying to help, but the fairy looked dead on her feet already, and there would be no magic help from her.  Not that he wanted it. 

Rumplestiltskin had never been the sort to use a staff or anything else to channel his magic, and he’d only ever used a magic wand when he wanted to steal fairy dust or to show off.  So now he did nothing of the sort, and if an odd corner of his mind wanted a staff for some reason or another, he pushed that thought aside.  Instead, he simply dropped his right knee, felt cold grass meet with leather, and placed his right hand, palm down, on the ground.  Letting out a breath, he ignored the way abused bones and muscles protested, and focused on magic. 

He usually preferred finesse to raw power, but there wasn’t time.  So instead he would improvise, and use power of his own to meet this rising darkness, to find its weakness and exploit it.  Honestly, he had no idea if this would work.  Whatever power he possessed still remained a mystery to Rumplestiltskin, and years of practicing magic cautioned him that he should _not_ test it this way.  Yet he had no choice, and he knew that this would work.  He just… _knew_.  Grass was green, water was wet, and his power could meet _hers_ and survive it. 

The ground trembled under his palm; less than a second has passed since he put his hand down, and out from his fingers raced power, pure and fast, rushing outwards from his position to the edges of the town.  A dozen or so feet outside the perimeter fence, it reared out of the grass and arced upwards to meet the clouds as Regina swore in surprise.  Dark red met black, boiling out of the ground like clouds of fire and turning back _her_ attack.  The two clouds of power danced with one another for several long seconds, vying for supremacy as Rumplestiltskin’s arm tingled.  He watched the magical mêlée carefully, but not for the light show that held the others so transfixed, waiting until his practiced eye and practiced mind found the weakness— 

_There_.  Power always dissipated over distance, and this attack had been sent in a hurry.  Powerful it was, but not impenetrable.  Rumplestiltskin had always found magic much like weaving, and the threads of this power were not woven closely enough to prevent interference.  His hand came off the ground, fingers closed, and his wrist twisted just _so_.  Within that one movement, his magic attacked the weak points and pulled—and the black clouds suddenly collapsed in on themselves, the lightning sucked into a vacuum with one last magnificent flash, and then there was silence. 

Rumplestiltskin stood, power still racing through his veins in a familiar yet terrifying manner.  He felt like his fingertips should be glowing even as his body shook in protest.  Even with the virtually bottomless well of power he’d been able to control as the Dark One, he had never encountered anything like this. 

“What did you _do_?” Regina demanded, and once he looked at her shocked expression did Rumplestiltskin realize that he had destroyed the boiling wave of darkness in less than fifteen seconds. 

“Magic,” he replied, smiling at her to hide his own unease, smirking to mask the fact that _he didn’t know._   Butterflies danced wildly in his stomach, and he just wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. 

_What the hell has happened to me?_

 

****************

 

The two armies had fought through the night, trading blows by torchlight, magic light, or oftentimes, no light at all save that of the moon.  The Witch’s army had found their base camp shortly after Tinker Bell had left and hadn’t wasted any time in attacking.  The Witch herself had been there in person, too, which was certainly a first; Baelfire didn’t think she was much of a general, herself, but given that she had the Buffalo-Leather Soldier to command her armies for her, it didn’t make much of a difference.  The Soldier was a legend in the Enchanted Forest, long thought dead and gone, but so well known for his generalship that armies trembled at his approach.  No one knew where the Witch had found him or how she had convinced him to work for her; rumors claimed that she had brought him back from the dead or from a sleeping curse, but no one knew for certain. 

What they _did_ know was that the Soldier was a superlative general, even when his armies consisted of flying monkeys, griffins, tanuki, chimeras, and trolls.  The human fighters in the Witch’s armies were few and far between, but the Soldier still commanded with his old skill, having easily defeated the rag-tag army that Mulan, Aurora, and Philip had gathered before everyone else’s return to the Enchanted Forest.  He certainly made a mess of _their_ forces early on, too; it had taken Charming and Baelfire almost a year to start outsmarting him, and their recent successes were mostly owed to the fact that Mulan had the Soldier distracted in the south, freeing them to take on the Witch’s lesser commanders and gain some ground. 

Until now. 

Had their army a little less confidence in their own commanders, they might have fled outright once they learned that the Soldier was commanding the opposition.  However, between them, David and Baelfire had welded their forces into a cohesive fighting unit over the last year, and that camaraderie _held_ against the Soldier.  Although it started as a lopsided battle on the wrong end of two-to-one odds, the tide turned a few hours after midnight, and as dawn approached, the Witch’s forces were hard pressed to keep up the pace.  Where the Witch acquired quite so many creatures to fight for her, Baelfire didn’t know—they kept killing them off, and magic couldn’t bring back the dead—but she was going to have to be searching for more come the next battle, because by the time light started filling the sky, it became obvious that the Soldier was going to lose. 

A lull in the battle gave Baelfire time to ride to David’s side; Prince Charming had command of the center while Bae darted here and there, addressing problems and filling holes as they came up.  He’d already countered the Soldier’s attempt to outflank them using an obscure footpath through the mountains, but now Bae had something more significant on his mind. 

David had just pulled back after leading yet another cavalry charge (Bae often wished he could convince their leader to _stop_ doing such crazily heroic things, but he supposed that David wouldn’t be Prince Charming if he wasn’t prone to them), and was covered in enough mud and blood to almost make himself unrecognizable.  This kind of out and out warfare wasn’t exactly what the Enchanted Forest usually experienced; their heroes were more used to settling matters by single combat or through one well-timed assault than slugging it out in the mud, but here they were, playing the Soldier’s game, time and time again.  Bae just supposed he had to be grateful that Charming sometimes understood that you couldn’t always _command_ while you were leading a charge, and had the sense to pull back before he completely lost track of the battle. 

Not for the first time, he was grateful that Thomas was still unconscious in their well-guarded camp, because that distinction was one the boy would never make.  Oh, he’d be a fine hero under normal circumstances, but this game was just too dirty for him. 

“I think we’re going to win this one,” David panted, pausing to pat his tired horse on the neck. 

Bae shot him a dirty look.  “You do know what happens to people who say such stupid things, right?” 

“I’ve read a book or two, yeah,” the prince only laughed, and Bae sighed. 

“I think you’re right, though.  Conservatively.  They should have retreated an hour ago, but I’m guessing that the Witch’s presence means even the Soldier can’t make a strategic retreat without losing face.” 

“You’ve got something on your mind.”  David knew him too well, and the astute observation made Baelfire grin. 

“Well, I’m not much of an archer, and I wish to hell Robin was here for this, but—” 

“I’m not in Robin or Snow’s league, but give me a target and I’ll hit what I aim at,” David interjected. 

He probably would, too.  And there really wasn’t time to argue the point, not if this plan was going to work.  Thomas would have been a better choice, because the boy was darn talented with a bow, but he wasn’t exactly an option at the moment.  So Bae just grinned.  “How about the Soldier?” 

“The— _ooh._   Is he—?”  

Baelfire wasn’t sure when he and David had started finishing one another’s sentences, but now was a good time to have that ability. 

“Close enough?  Yeah.  Right there on their left flank, trying to put some spine into the few humans they have.  Shoot him, will you?” 

“Will that help?  The Witch—wait a minute.  Regina said the Witch is like her, and dark magic can’t heal, right?” 

“Give the man a prize,” Bae grinned.  He’d thought of that earlier, and would have shot the Soldier himself if a crossbow could make the shot at this range. 

David was already reaching for a nearby guard’s bow, his face lined with concentration.  “Take over here, will you?” 

“And watch the center, I know.  Go on,” Bae shooed the prince off, trying not to let his own hopes show on his face.  _This is no normal army.  Cut off its head, and it just might collapse._

_‘Ding, dong the Soldier’s dead’ doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, but I’ll take what we can get._   Most people here hadn’t seen that movie, anyway. 

Twenty minutes later, as David cantered his horse back towards him, Baelfire ordered the reserves into the center.  Moments later, he watched the Witch’s army fold in on itself, collapsing under the attack like a waterlogged sand castle.  The battle was a rout from there on out, and before long he spotted the Witch herself flying away on her broom, leaving her forces to utter disaster. 

Her retreat seemed to break the magic binding some of the creatures to her cause; scores of them fled, vanishing into the mountains, the forest, and the sky.  Several hours passed before every pocket of fighting was wiped out, but from the moment David shot the Soldier, the battle had been won.  The only worrisome part of the victory turned out to be their inability to find the Soldier’s body and the persistent rumors that a tall, red-haired woman clad in black and silver had swept him away into a cloud of rose-colored smoke.  Still, Baelfire and David had heard stranger tales from the battlefield before.  So, they shrugged those stories away like they did the others, rationalizing that they didn’t exactly know what the Soldier’s face looked like, anyway, and corpses suffered looting on any battlefield.  Someone might just as easily have stolen the buffalo leather boots he was so well known for, leaving them unable to identify the right body. 

Either way, they had destroyed two of the Witch’s armies in the same number of days, and victory counted for a lot.  

“You know what this means, don’t you?” David asked as the two men stood side by side, overlooking the now-quiet battlefield. 

“Is this where you say that we’ve finally turned the tide of the war?” Baelfire challenged the prince who had become his friend, crossing his arms and throwing David a cocky smile. 

“We have,” Charming replied earnestly. “I know it’s not a promise of final victory, but between the territory Mulan gained down south and what we managed today, we finally have freed an entire kingdom from the Witch’s grasp— _and_ we’ve given ourselves a defensible battle line.” 

“I can’t argue with that, anyway.”  But he did smile, because David _was_ right.  Oh, there would be plenty of battles left to fight, but they had actually accomplished something. 

Of course, the kingdom that had been freed belonged to Thomas’ father, so they’d have to watch the wily old man carefully—and keep Thomas with the army so that dear old dad didn’t think about switching sides.  Still, that would ease the pressure of refugees at the Dark Castle and especially that in the town in the valley below it, which looked more like Hooverville than anything else these days.  And the territory between Thomas’ kingdom and the Dark Castle was easily to defend; there were several good positions where they could base armies out of, which meant that the “good guys” could actually hold the territory they’d taken. 

“You’re a pessimist,” David interrupted his thoughts jokingly.  Bae snorted. 

“Someone has to be with you lot.” 

“If you think _I’m_ bad, you should try fighting a war with Snow at your side.  Once she decides you’re going to win…well, I’d rather taken on _any_ enemy than argue with her,” was the laughing response, and even Baelfire had to crack a smile at that one.  Even if he did have another question to ask: 

“Did Robin say why they needed Tink in Bremen?”  Current problems aside, Baelfire’s mind was already past their current predicament and wondering where the next snag would occur.  Bremen was deep in enemy territory, a straight shot from the Dark Castle towards the Witch’s stronghold, and if something was going to go wrong, it was bound to be there.  “Traps _do_ usually come in pairs…” 

“It was Robin who wrote, actually,” David replied, some of the cheer on his face vanishing.  “Said it was urgent, and not much else.” 

“It better not be Regina who’s hurt.”  A part of Baelfire couldn’t believe those words were coming out of his mouth, but he supposed it was far easier for him to say than it would be for Charming, whose wife had been put under a sleeping curse by the very same Evil Queen who they all now depended upon.  But David surprised him yet again, agreeing: 

“If it is, and Tink can’t save her, we’re screwed.”

 

****************

 

“So that’s it,” Emma said skeptically, resisting the urge to glare at the cocky—if handsome—pirate.  “We just all put our hands on that…rock, and it takes us to the Enchanted Forest.” 

She really didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic—Henry was already shooting a pleading look her way—but Emma was no one’s fool  Everything she’d learned about travel between realms indicated that it was _hard_ to travel from what she still thought of as the ‘real world’ and a place with magic.  If you could just grab any old rock and use it as a portal, why all the fuss? 

“Come now, love.  After all we went through in Neverland, you draw the line at a magic rock?” Hook asked her with a winsome smile. 

Emma scowled at him.  She was _not_ the swooning type, and if Hook thought she was going to just fall into his arms because he’d come to bring her and Henry to their family, he had another thing coming.  She was the Savior, for crying out loud, and they had a problem to solve.  She could untangle her own romantic feelings later.  For the moment, she was more content ignoring them. 

“No, but I know that traveling from here to the Enchanted Forest is _hard_ ,” she retorted.  “Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken an entire _curse_ to take all of you back.  So why can a little rock do the job for us?” 

Hook sighed, and apparently settled for logical explanations now that he knew using his rather-admittedly-lovely puppy dog eyes wouldn’t work.  “This is the Stone of Giramphiel,” the pirate replied.  “It’s an object of great power on its own, and the Blue Fairy was able to enchant it to _also_ be a portal because of the power in the stone.  It’s hardly _simple_.”  

“That wasn’t in the book,” Henry objected, and Emma pushed back a smile.  The last year had been different than she’d ever have expected, but she actually felt like Henry’s _mother_ these days.  Her son was infuriating, brilliant, and charming in turn, but he was hers, and she was damn proud of him. 

“Not everything from the Enchanted Forest is in your book, lad,” Hook pointed out.  “Otherwise, your book would have been a great deal larger than it was.” 

Well, at least that sounded logical.  

“So, what does it do, then?” Henry pressed.  “When it’s not a portal?” 

“I’m a bit fuzzy on the details, but apparently it can protect you from dragons and wizards alike,” Hook replied.  “Neither of which is our problem at the moment, although I’ve heard that the Witch has a score of dragons or so at her beck and call.  Still, it’s the portal part that most concerns us, now.  Are you ready to leave?” 

“Are we ever!” Henry answered before Emma could get a word out, and she spared a moment to shoot her son a cautioning look.  Predictably, he ignored her. 

_I’m going to_ kill _whoever started this,_ she promised herself.  _What sane person brings a thirteen year old into a_ war _?  I may not be parent of the year material, but even I know that!_   Yet Hook was right, much though Emma wanted to deny that fact.  She and Henry could try to hide in their world, but the Witch’s followers would come after them, anyway.  She could gamble on her own skills being adequate to protect her son, but what if she was wrong?  What if they tried to hide, and failed, and she couldn’t protect him alone?  She had no right to ask Hook to stay to protect her son, and she didn’t want to ask if he wanted to.  Besides, if they chose that road…she and Henry might never see the rest of their family again. 

And _that_ was a sacrifice Emma wasn’t willing to make.  

“So…we just touch the rock?” she asked, shrugging a backpack on and watching Henry do the same.  They’d given one to Hook, too, and it looked terribly out of place with his long leather coat, but Emma had insisted.   She wasn’t stupid enough to try to use a gun in the Enchanted Forest—not this time, anyway—but she wasn’t going to leave the important bits of her life behind, either.  Not if they might never make it back. 

Home was where her family was, Emma had long since decided.  So she was going _home_ , even if that meant abandoning the world she was more comfortable in. 

“It’s the Stone of Giramphiel, Mom,” Henry corrected her.  He was all but bouncing with excitement, just as he’d been ever since he’d gotten his memories back.  “Not a rock.” 

“Whatever.” 

Hook nodded.  “Have you noticed that I’m wearing gloves?  One touch will send us through—and the stone with us, so we must touch the stone together.” 

“Right.”  Emma sucked in a deep breath, turning to Henry.  “Ready, kid?” 

“Mom.”  He shot her an exasperated look of the type only a teenager could manage.  “I was _born_ ready.” 

“Then let’s do this.”  _So much for a normal life!_  

“On your count, love,” Hook said, shifting the stone into the fake left hand he wore instead of his trademark hook/weapon, and pulled the glove off of his right hand with his teeth.  Tucking the glove under his other arm, he held his hand over the stone, his fingertips hovering barely an inch over the edge.  Emma and Henry copied the motion. 

“No, I think Henry should do it,” she replied, turning to smile at her son while she offered him her spare hand.  Beaming, Henry grasped it.  “After all, I wouldn’t know about any of this if it wasn’t for you.” 

“Okay!”  His excitement was almost contagious, but Emma was damn glad that Henry was holding onto her hand as tightly as she was his.  Portal travel wasn’t fun, and she was damn well not going to lose him on the way to another world.  “Three…two…one… 

“ _Now_ ,” Henry said, and three hands touched down in unison. 

Emma felt a distinctive _pull_ , and then the world collapsed into a spiral. 

 

****************

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Chapter 7: “Coming Home” in which Emma and Henry reach the Dark Castle and Rumplestiltskin continues to try to figure out what this new magic of his is.
> 
> Now, here’s my question to you: Where do you think this magic comes from? Also, did you notice where the Buffalo-Leather Soldier went?


	8. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which many reunions happen.

**_Chapter Seven—“Coming Home”_ **

 

The rock— _portal,_ Emma reminded herself—spat them out in front of a large castle built of white stone.  It was surrounded by high walls with gray-roofed turrets, and though the tops of the walls looked a little run down and worse for the wear, the entire structure was still damn imposing.  They’d landed on their feet, which was a better manner of arrival than Emma recalled from her last trip to the Enchanted Forest, but they’d also been deposited outside the walls, which seemed a tad inconvenient. 

Henry, of course, didn’t think that way.  “That’s a real castle!” her son gushed, staring wide-eyed at the forty foot high walls.  He swung to look at Emma.  “Is that Grandma and Grandpa’s castle?” 

“No,” Emma replied, frowning and searching her memory.  “I remember that castle, and it didn’t look anything like this.” 

No, the castle she’d been born in had been much more attractive and a hell of a lot less foreboding.  Even after the curse had torn through it.  She turned to Hook, mentally slapping herself for not demanding more details before touching that damn rock. 

“Where the hell are we?” she demanded, and was a little bit gratified to watch the pirate squirm. 

“Well, the lad’s not too far off.  He just chose the wrong grandparent,” Hook replied none too helpfully. 

“ _What?_ ” 

The pirate shrugged, busy slipping the Stone of Giramphiel into a pouch on his belt and pulling his hook out.  As he spoke, he unscrewed the fake hand and replaced it with his trademark weapon.  “This is the Dark Castle, Miss Swan.  It belonged to Rumplestiltskin.” 

“He had a _castle_?” Henry asked, even as Emma pointed out: 

“He’s dead.” 

“Well, Baelfire’s the one who suggested we re-appropriate it, as it does belong to him these days,” was the easy answer.  “And besides, your parents’ castle is currently occupied by the Witch.  We couldn’t exactly share with her now, could we?” 

Handsome or no, there were times that Emma wanted to punch Hook right in the face, and this was certainly one of them.  “You couldn’t have mentioned that _earlier_?” she snarled. 

“You didn’t ask, love—Hey!” 

Emma’d finally had it, and she hit him in the shoulder.  Hard.

 

****************

 

“Snow, they’re here!” Ruby—who had chosen to keep her Storybrooke name—burst into her rooms with no warning, and the door slammed against the wall with a crash. 

“What?” Feeling absurdly clumsy, Snow spun around to face her old friend. 

“Emma and Henry.  They’re _back_.”  And then Ruby was gone, leaving Snow to negotiate the winding stairs on her own, all the while reminding herself that if she tripped and fell, it would take even longer to see her daughter and her grandson than if she just took her time.  Still, it seemed to take forever to reach the great hall— 

And then she arrived, and there they were.  Emma was dressed in jeans and that same old red leather jacket, her blonde hair loose and falling everywhere.  Henry seemed immensely taller than he had before, but was talking to Jiminy Cricket with the same delighted animation, his face all smiles and his eyes dancing.  Hook stood close by, looking insufferably pleased with himself—but Snow barely noticed him as she came through the doorway, feeling like she was trying to walk underwater. 

“Emma.”  She whispered the word, but her daughter somehow heard it anyway—and suddenly there Emma was, in her arms.  Henry followed only a moment later, and Snow suddenly felt _whole_ again. 

Oh, she wished David was here and not with the army.  She knew he’d never forgive himself for missing this moment, and the only thing keeping it from being utterly _perfect_ was his absence.  Still, Snow’s smile was so huge that it hurt her face.  She’d just have to speak for the both of them. 

“We’ve missed you so much,” she breathed into Emma’s hair.  “Both of you.  It’s so _good_ to see you again.” 

“We missed you, too, Grandma,” Henry piped up immediately, smiling cheekily as he pulled back.  “When we remembered, anyway.” 

Despite herself, Snow laughed.  “I bet you did.  And look at you!  You’ve grown so much.” 

“I _am_ thirteen now,” her grandson pointed out. 

“And never tires of reminding me of that,” Emma put in, wearing a long-suffering look.  Snow, however, only pulled her close for one more hug. 

“You look _wonderful_ ,” she said feelingly. 

“Thanks.”  Emma’s smile was tiny, but it was real, and her daughter was back.  But Emma looked around, her quizzical eyes sweeping over the Great Hall.  “Where’s everyone else?” 

Hook looked like he wanted to say something, but Snow got in first: 

“Your father and Baelfire—I mean Neal—are off with the army.  I assume Hook told you what’s been going on?” 

“Yeah, he might have said something about a Witch, a war, and really bad stuff happening,” Emma replied succinctly.   

“That’s putting it mildly,” Snow breathed.  For some reason, Tinker Bell’s warning about the Blue Fairy suddenly started ringing in her ears; hadn’t it been Blue who insisted that the Witch wanted Henry, and it was safest to bring them back quickly?  _Stop that.  You’re being paranoid.  Blue has never done anything other than help us._  

_Except for the one crucial_ lie _that made Emma grow up without either one of her parents._  

Emma’s next words jerked Snow out of her reverie.  “So, um, Hook also might have mentioned that I’m going to have a sibling?  Though he didn’t say that you looked ready to pop.” 

“I’ve got a month yet,” Snow laughed, grateful, as always, for her daughter’s blunt attitude.  “But yes.  You’re going to be a big sister.” 

“A _really_ big sister.  I’m thirty!” Emma objected. 

“The better for changing diapers, my dear.” 

“What?  No!  I’ve done—or at least I _remember_ doing that enough with Henry, thanks.”  Emma’s shocked expression only grew more comical as she tried to straighten out her own memories with the ones she’d been given, but Snow resisted the urge to laugh at her.  Instead, she squeezed her daughter’s arm.   

“Well, maybe you can teach me a thing or two, then,” she smiled. 

Emma actually blushed.  However, Henry was looking around hopefully, and Snow’s heart constricted as she realized who he had to be searching for. 

“Regina’s not—” Snow started to say gently, only to be cut off. 

“Not interrupting your touching family reunion, am I?” Regina strode into the room like she always did, confident and poised, as if she owned anywhere she went.  Snow had envied that grace as a little girl, and hated it as Mary Margaret, but now that she’d finally repaired her relationship with her stepmother, she just viewed it as one of Regina’s many strengths. 

“Mom!” Henry flew into Regina’s arms, and Snow felt a warm smile creeping onto her own face.  She couldn’t exactly pinpoint when Regina and Emma had both become Henry’s mothers, but odd though the family dynamic was, it worked.  And it was what Henry wanted, so that was what counted the most.  Still, she couldn’t contain her own surprise at _seeing_ Regina.  After all, she’d heard from Robin just the evening before, and the outlaw had definitely been in Bremen with Regina at the time. 

“Welcome back, Regina,” Snow said as Robin and Tinker Bell trailed into the room behind her, with the rests of the merry men trickling in one by one behind them.  “You’re early.  We didn’t expect you back for at least two weeks.” 

Regina looked up from her tight embrace with Henry.  “Yes, well, nothing went according to plan.”  The queen grimaced moodily.  “And I had a bit of… _help_ in bringing us back.” 

“If this is what you call ‘a bit of help,’ dearie, I hate to think of what you’d think of as a truly desperate situation,” a familiar voice put in, and Snow wheeled to face the doorway.  Her mouth dropped open. 

“ _Rumplestiltskin_?” 

“It’s always nice to be remembered,” the man in question quipped, walking casually into the room with Belle by his side.  

A moment passed before Snow’s brain could catch up with her eyes and tell her what was wrong, but he looked like… _Gold._ The gray-gold shimmering skin was nowhere to be seen, and his features were entirely human, if thinner than she remembered.  But the knowing smile was one she knew entirely too well, both in Storybrooke and in the Enchanted Forest. 

“Hold on a minute, here,” Emma interjected, turning to look at Snow in confusion.  “Isn’t he supposed to be _dead_?” 

“Yes, actually.  This is…rather unexpected.  And kind of, um, worrisome.”  Glancing Regina’s way, Snow tried to ask the question without actually asking it, but her stepmother only rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, trust me, it’s him.  No one else could be as perfectly _infuriating_ as he’s managed to be in the last few hours,” Regina replied.  Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, only chuckled quietly, but Snow still gave him a hard look. 

“We watched you _die_ ,” she pointed out.  “We all did.” 

“Are you so sure about that?” he countered, and Snow had to agree with Regina.  He was every bit as cryptic and cagey as she remembered.  

“Yes,” Snow snapped, quickly running out of patience—particularly with Charming Junior choosing that moment to practice the backstroke.  Emma had been a troublesome child to carry, but this little one was trying to give his or her big sister a run for her money. 

Rumplestiltskin—or was he Gold?—held up one finger with a familiar flourish.  “Strictly speaking, you watched me _disappear_ , not die.  Now, as I did intend to kill myself along with Pan, you can be forgiven for thinking I did, but the important part is that we were all incorrect in that assumption.”  He smiled, then, very faintly.  “I’ll spare you the long and complicated explanation.  The short version is that although I didn’t die, my curse _did_ break, and I wound up back here as the guest of some truly unpleasant individuals.  In Bremen, coincidentally enough.” 

“The ‘object’ the Witch’s forces were guarding was him,” Belle put in as Snow tried to wrap her mind around the explanation.  Belle was grinning when she said it; Snow hadn’t seen her look this _alive_ since before they left Storybrooke.   

Of course she looked better.  Snow could only imagine how heartbroken _she_ would have been if she’d lost Charming, or even thought she had.  Frankly, Snow had always been surprised that Belle was managing to function so well.  In Belle’s position, she would have just wanted to curl up and wallow in her grief, but the other woman never had.  She’d pushed onwards, kept fighting, and refused to give in.  Snow had always liked her—even if she never had understood how such a _good_ person could fall for Rumplestiltskin—but in the last year, Belle had been truly impressive. 

“So, you’ve been alive this whole time?” Snow asked dubiously.  Her eyes narrowed.  If there was one thing she’d learned about Rumplestiltskin, it was that he didn’t do _anything_ without an ulterior motive.  Had spent an entire _year_ waiting for the ‘right’ moment to reappear?  If so, how in the world could he be so cruel to a woman who so plainly loved him? 

Surprisingly, Rumplestiltskin grimaced.  “Indeed I have.” 

“And that’s it?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking. 

“Oh, I’m sure someone will share the gruesome details with you, dearie, but I see no reason for that to be me.”  His face closed off as he spoke, and Belle looked his way worriedly, but Rumplestiltskin only smiled Gold’s nastiest smile.  “Excuse me.” 

He vanished, leaving Belle to sigh and then—surprisingly—exchange a loaded glance with Regina, of all people.  However, since the best way to get information about Rumplestiltskin was often to ask someone else, Snow looked to Belle.  She was almost as confused as Emma’s expression said her daughter was, but first things first. 

“So.  Rumplestiltskin _isn’t_ the Dark One any longer?” Snow asked slowly.  Regina answered first: 

“He says his curse is broken.” 

Belle gave the queen a hard look.  “He wouldn’t lie about that.” 

“I’m not sure I’d put lying about _anything_ past Gold,” Emma put in, and Snow very much wanted to agree with her daughter.  Regina, however, shook her head. 

“I don’t think he’s lying,” she said decisively.  “Oh, he isn’t telling the whole truth, either—and that should surprise no one in this room—but I don’t think he _expected_ to have magic.  He does, though.” 

Regina exchanged another look with Belle, and there was so obviously something neither woman was saying.  However, neither of them volunteered the information, either, and Snow had a feeling that pressing that point would get her nowhere.  So, she took a deep breath and banished her worries on that front.  She and Regina were still learning to trust one another, but if Snow didn’t try to respect her stepmother’s desire to keep her own counsel, they’d never manage.  Henry’s eyes had been darting between his adopted mother, grandmother, and Belle during the conversation, and when Regina didn’t offer further explanation, he asked: 

“That’s a good thing, right?  It means he isn’t evil.” 

Regina was silent, leaving Snow to look at Belle.  “I…I’m not sure.  Does it?” 

“I think it means he’s still Rumplestiltskin,” Belle explained with a genuine smile.  “He hasn’t been purely evil in a long time.  No more than Regina has.” 

“Then what does this change, if anything?” Emma demanded.  “And if he’s been alive this whole time, why the hell is he only popping up now?  I mean, no offense, but that’s pretty horrible.  Especially to you.” 

The last bit was directed at Belle, but Tinker Bell spoke up.  “His magic isn’t normal,” the fairy said bluntly, and for the first time, Snow noticed how worn down Tink looked.  “It’s not like it was before, and it’s not like Regina’s, either.  Frankly, it’s not like anything I’ve ever even _heard_ of before.” 

“Tink’s right,” Regina admitted after a moment’s hesitation.  “But I can’t say I’m surprised.  Rumplestiltskin…he’s always known more than he lets on.” 

Tinker Bell still didn’t look happy, but Regina caught her eye and shook her head before the fairy could say more.  Then the sorceress continued: 

“And the rest of it isn’t what you think,” she told Snow and Emma, shooting a loaded glance Henry’s way as she spoke.  “Where we found him…well, let’s just say he wasn’t going anywhere.  Whoever held him made sure of that.”

 

****************

 

The press of people in _his_ castle was just too much.  Oh, Belle had told him that she and Baelfire had volunteered the Dark Castle as a base of operations, and from an intellectual perspective, he had no problem with that.  Using the Dark Castle made sense, and he’d been thought _dead_ , anyway.  Rumplestiltskin’s frequent need to get away from people wasn’t something either Belle or his son needed to consider while making that decision, and even now, they weren’t wrong.  He just craved quiet, wanted peace, needed time to figure out what in the world was going on. 

Power swirled around him, deep and merciless, sharp to taste and utterly intoxicating.  Every movement made magic crackle through his veins, through every bone and every muscle.  It made everything easy _,_ simple, _effortless_.  Magic had been different in Storybrooke, and there Rumplestiltskin had always been careful not to tip his hand, not to show how easily he could manipulate magic powers other than dark magic, and also to hide how the difference could handicap him as easily as it could Regina or any other.  This, however, was nothing like that.  This power wasn’t even like anything he’d experienced in the Enchanted Forest before the curse, not the well of darkness from which his curse drew power or the other types of magic he had meticulously taught himself over the centuries.  No, this was different.  Magic came as easily as breathing, travelled from his mind to his fingertips without so much as a heartbeat coming in between.  He could feel the power with every breath he took, could sense it gathering, waiting, watching and _ready_.  

And it was absolutely terrifying. 

He had to get away, needed to not be around people, even his own sometime allies.  He should have said something to Henry—the boy was his grandson, and had been watching him with wide eyes—but Rumplestiltskin’s ability to act civilly had vanished with Snow White’s probing questions.  His hands wanted desperately to shake, and he _still_ wanted to curl up in a corner and wait for the storm of nightmares to pass.  How many hours had it been since the pain had abruptly stopped?  Not enough.  He’d dreaded one of them asking why he was so thin, or Regina pointing out that the first bit of conscious and coherent magic he’d preformed after _his_ magic had healed him wasn’t just to clothe himself.  He’d also immediately thrown up a bit of a glamour to hide his frailty and the shadows he knew filled his face.  Rumplestiltskin didn’t _want_ to explain what he’d gone through, not to these people who he cared very little for, and certainly not when he wasn’t at all certain that he could do so without going to pieces. 

So he’d taken himself to his old bedroom, the one place he could be certain that no one in the castle would venture.  No one in their right mind wanted to come after the beast in his own den, after all.  Even with his curse broken, they’d undoubtedly see him as a monster; he wasn’t sure he wasn’t one, so why not use that image?  His bedchamber looked recently lived in, but those were Belle’s hairs he recognized in a carelessly thrown aside hairbrush.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t actually certain that he could face _Belle_ at the moment, but he definitely knew he wasn’t up to dealing with anyone else.  Not until he got control of whatever this was. 

Dropping his dragonskin coat onto the floor without so much as a thought, Rumplestiltskin half-walked, half-stumbled his way over to the bed.  Collapsing into a sitting position, he dropped his aching head into pale and very human hands.  Very _shaking_ hands.  

Letting out a breath, he dropped the glamour, and little though he wanted to, knocked aside the blocks he’d put up in his mind to protect himself from the memories.  When he’d thrown those barriers up, he’d known that doing so was unhealthy, but Rumplestiltskin hadn’t been comfortable with showing weaknesses in front of others for longer than he could remember.  They’d already seen too much.  He hadn’t been able to stop Regina, Robin, and Belle from seeing the extent of his injuries, but that was _all_ he planned to allow his old pupil and her outlaw to see.  Long an expert in only allowing people to see what he wanted them to, Rumplestiltskin— 

The last block vanished, and images swept through his mind too quickly to catalog.  Pain.  Fear.  A hand touching the back of his neck and then _power_ surging, magic not of his own, tearing and crushing and trying to bury all that he’d ever been.  Good, bad, ugly, or evil, _she_ had tried to erase everything that made him Rumplestiltskin, but why?  He didn’t even know who that female fae had been, knew nothing about her save for the fact that she terrified him and possessed a power unmatched by anything he had ever encountered before.  Her orders had been the ones that brought him pain, Rumplestiltskin knew.  Whatever game the other fae were playing was hers, and he’d been… _what_ in it? 

Not quite a pawn.  Something else entirely. 

_“Embrace the darkness,” she whispered in his ear as Rumplestiltskin sobbed in pain, his body convulsing.  His forehead rested weakly against the stone wall, and he was too drained to even try to escape the hand stroking the back of his head._

_Had that been all she asked, he would probably have done it.  A distant corner of his mind recognized_ his _dagger nearby, could feel the oppressive darkness emulating from it, was aware of the curse, his curse, straining for release.  Looking for a home.  It wanted him, and_ she _wanted to give it back._

_“Let go of your conscious self.”  Her fingers played in his hair, making him flinch.  His heart, already beating erratically, stuttered slightly, and he wanted her to stop touching him even more than he wanted the torture to stop.  “Become your rage, your pain, and your fury.  I will give you the means with which to wreak revenge upon the world.”_

_Vengeance.  The terrified spinner inside him had once yearned for it, for power over those who had hurt him.  They had reviled him, spat on him, called him coward and endangered his son—_

Baelfire.  _His son._

_He’d promised to be a better man.  Not perfect, but_ better.  _Capable of darkness, but not this—_ Pain.  _White hot agony laced through his body; she must have felt his resistance gathering, must have seen the tension in his shoulders that told him he wanted something other than just to let go, to become putty in her hands.  Her hand tightened painfully on the back of his head, and Rumplestiltskin whimpered into the gag._

_“This will_ not _stop until you are mine,” she hissed furiously.  “Embrace what you are, or suffer for eternity._

_“Do not look for death, Rumplestiltskin, for it cannot save you from me.”_  

Gasping, Rumplestiltskin tore himself free of the memory, doubled over and panting for air.  She’d wanted to reset the curse, to force it back into him.  She held the dagger—and still did; it had been nowhere in that hut when Belle and the others found him—and obviously wanted control of the Dark One.  But she hadn’t wanted him for the same reasons others would.  Her power dwarfed that of the curse.  So why? 

Looking at the situation logically did nothing to stop his trembling, did nothing to banish the feeling that more pain was to come.  He’d lived that nightmare for the last year, and even though Rumplestiltskin _knew_ that this was reality and not a dream, he couldn’t escape the way his entire body tensed, bracing itself for torture his psyche knew would come.  He’d never thought of himself as anything other than a coward, and if she had asked for anything else, he probably would have crumbled to pieces and given in within weeks.  Perhaps he would have lasted months, at the outside; he _was_ stubborn, after all.  But she had demanded the one thing that he had never given up: his sense of self.  The curse had stained and shredded his soul beyond repair centuries ago, but he’d reclaimed a tiny bit of himself along the way.  Somehow, despite being the Dark One, he’d _also_ been Rumplestiltskin, and he was loath to give that up. 

Add that to the fact that for the first time in forever, he actually had someone, two someones, to fight for, and Rumplestiltskin resisted.  If she had only wanted him to embrace the darkness and to let the curse back in, the pain could have made him do so.  Easily.  He’d lived with the curse for so long that living without it was far more terrifying than living _with_ it, darkness and all.  Even though he was _now_ grateful that he was in complete ownership of his battered soul, it would have seemed a small price to pay in order to make the pain stop.  But she’d wanted the one thing he could not, would not, give. 

She’d been well on her way to getting it, anyway, though.  Even as he struggled to regulate his rapid breathing, Rumplestiltskin knew that was true.  His mind had fragmented under the continuous pressure, and _nothing made sense_.  There were memories there that didn’t belong to him, images that he _knew_ came through another man’s eyes, one long dead and gone.  Someone powerful and yet defeated.  _Old friend_ , she had said, as if she was talking to someone other than Rumplestiltskin.  Or was he just going mad? 

When had tears started streaking down his face?  Memories reared up again, and he started shaking harder and harder.  Arms snaking around his torso, he finally gave in to the urge to curl up on the bed.  Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes as his cheek landed on the silky red and gold coverlet, hugging himself tightly and still trying not to hyperventilate.  He remembered too much: battles and friendship, betrayal and pain, darkness and magic and _too_ much pain.  He remembered giving in where he hadn’t, remembered what happened when the torture dragged on for years and years and eternity until he forgot his own name— 

_Rumplestiltskin._   His name was Rumplestiltskin, and these memories were not his.  Why, then, did they make him sob his soul out, rocking back and forth on the bed and curling up as tightly as his thin body would allow? 

Yet even when he managed to swallow back the memories he _knew_ (hoped?) weren’t his, images he knew were born of his own experiences rose to replace them.  He remembered the pain and blood everywhere, feeling and screaming like he would be ripped in half.  He remembered the first time the hot irons touched down on his eyes, wailing in agony and unable to breathe because it hurt so badly.  He remembered her hand in his hair and darkness lashing into him, her voice as she whispered in an almost friendly manner while he wanted to die.  He’d been so alone and there’d been _no one_ coming, because even if he hadn’t made more enemies than friends in his long life, everyone that mattered thought he was dead, and maybe they were just better off that way. 

The material under his face was soaking wet and heavy, now, but he hardly noticed.  His mind just wanted to fold under, and he couldn’t _fight_ anymore.  So he finally let go of the last shreds of his dignity and self-control (both painstakingly reassembled for the benefit of those had been watching) and just let himself break down. 

 

****************

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to everyone for the long wait for this chapter – crazy times at work and horrible weather absolutely sucked away my creativity! However, I do hope that this chapter doesn’t disappoint. Stay tuned for Chapter 8: “Choices and Consequences” in which Rumplestiltskin starts figuring out the price of his new magic, Regina and Henry finally reunite, Bae proves sneaky, and Henry kicks off “Operation Jellyfish.”
> 
> In the meantime, please review to let me know what you think!


	9. Choices and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina and Henry spend some quality time together, Rumplestiltskin tries to figure out who he is going to be, and an old enemy returns.

**_Chapter Eight—“Choices and Consequences”_ **

 

“Rumple?” 

Belle found him long after he’d run the gamut of out-of-control emotions, still curled up on the bed, boots and all.  Rumplestiltskin was still shaking a little, though, and had been too lost in his confusing swirl of memories to even hear her come in, let alone notice her approach.  Sitting down next to him on the bed, so close that her leg was almost touching his back, she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, his eyes flying open. 

“Sorry,” Belle whispered, and he just nodded away her apology, unable to find words.  His head was pounding, and even though his magic had healed him—in a wild and uncontrolled way that hadn’t banished most of the aches and pains—his limbs felt leaden.  Her hand remained on his shoulder, though, and Rumplestiltskin was ashamed to realize how comforting he found Belle’s touch.  “You don’t have to be okay, you know.” 

“I…” He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, other than that it would have been an argument of some sort.  But maybe not a coherent one. 

“Come here,” Belle said softly when he trailed off. 

Still shaking, Rumplestiltskin sat up, half turning to face her and resisting the urge to hide the fact that he looked like hell behind another glamour.  But Belle opened her arms and he gladly retreated into them, allowing her to pull him close.  He still hated himself for the weakness, but couldn’t stop from shuddering in relief while Belle held him tight.  He had no idea how long passed while she held him in her arms, only that his breathing and shaking finally calmed, the horrible feelings of terror and loneliness easing for the first time in a year.  Being busy had allowed Rumplestiltskin to push them aside earlier, but ignoring his demons had only made them stronger. 

“I’m all right,” he finally managed to say, his voice thick and scratchy.  But Rumplestiltskin made no move to pull away, either. 

“You don’t have to be,” Belle repeated. 

He tried a laugh, but it came out a broken and harsh noise.  “Of course I do.  I’m _Rumplestiltskin_.”  

Was that bitterness in his voice?  It was a sad day when he couldn’t sort out his own feelings, let alone control them.  But he was who he was, and even without being the Dark One, that meant something.  It had to.  Particularly with this new and overwhelming power, with magic that leapt lightly to mind the moment he even contemplated needing it.  He had _almost_ wanted to be powerless.  The coward in him had just wanted a quiet life somewhere like he’d tried to have so many lifetimes earlier, had hoped for a split second that perhaps he could walk away from all of this, once and for all, be free of the very first deal he’d made, when he bargained for magic he could not understand.  The coward in him wanted to hide. 

But that was not to be, and most of him was glad for it.  In his heart, Rumplestiltskin knew that he was no longer made for a quiet life.  He’d be nothing without power, and being _nothing_ did not suit him well.  He had manipulated worlds with a flick of his fingers, had played generations like musical instruments or puppets on their strings.  The poor spinner might still exist inside him, but that was no longer all he was…just as he was no longer the Dark One.  Somewhere in there, _Rumplestiltskin_ had become more than the sum of his past and his curse, and that was what remained even when he was free of the darkness.  That, and extraordinary power that came from he knew not where. 

_All magic comes with a price_. 

The realization startled Rumplestiltskin out of Belle’s arms, sitting bolt upright and holding his breath until he reminded himself to breathe once more.   Turning his mind to magic, he truly studied his new power for the first time, watching the overlays the way only a sorcerer could in his own power.  Colors danced everywhere in his mind’s eye, woven together like fine silk, breathless and vast.  Once, his power had been predominately dark, just as all of his magic that came from the curse was bound to be.  The small fragments of color and light that existed in his _old_ power had come from Rumplestiltskin’s refusal to be limited; he had determinedly learned other magics, and learned them well, but at his core, he had still been a creature of darkness.  No matter if he had been the first Dark One to manage to use anything _save_ the darkness; he’d still been trapped by it, and had always known that. 

Now, however… Now there was darkness, too, amidst the light, but more in equal measure.  There was a balance of sorts, a beautiful array of options that offered him the opportunity to be whatever and whoever he chose.  And this magic came without the heavy price of sheer evil attached.  To someone less experienced with managing the cost of magic than Rumplestiltskin—doing so had been how he’d preserved a small corner of his soul as the Dark One—that sudden freedom might have made it seem like this magic came _without_ a price, but he knew better.  The only question was what the price actually _was_. 

“Rumple?” Belle shook his shoulder gently, making him realize that it was not the first time she’d tried to get his attention.  Shaking his head to clear it, he looked at her worried face, and tried to smile without much success.  “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing—or nothing in particular, anyway,” he allowed.  “I’m just…trying to figure this magic of mine out.” 

“You’re trying to focus on anything other than your own emotions, you mean.” 

“I’m not—” he sighed.  “Well, maybe.” 

“You were tortured for a year,” Belle pointed out in her ever-logical, gentle way.  “I’d be more worried if you were fine with that.  You’re—” 

“Still a monster,” he cut her off automatically. 

Belle glared at him, her hand still on his shoulder.  “Still _human_.  You’re not a monster.” 

But oh, he almost _wanted_ that to be true.  Being a monster was simple, even when he was trying not to be one for her sake, for Bae’s.  That was a battle he understood, even if it was one he often lost.  It was familiar, and a part of him yearned for that.  Because Rumplestiltskin was pretty sure he’d figured out the price for this new magic of his, and he wasn’t certain that he wanted to pay it. 

“I could still be,” he told her.  “So easily.” 

“Do you want to?” she asked quietly, her blue eyes meeting his without judging him.  For the thousandth time, Rumplestiltskin realized how lucky he had been to find her, how a capriciously wrought deal had brought him True Love with a woman who actually did understand his many layers, yet never stopped pushing him to be better. 

“I don’t know,” Rumplestiltskin answered honestly. 

 

****************

 

“Are you mad at me for using magic the way I am, Henry?” Regina asked her son quietly. 

The first day after Henry’s return had been an absolute whirlwind of reunions, and she hadn’t gotten much time to spend with Henry alone.  Navigating the complex mess of their odd family was always a chore, and much though Regina appreciated the fact that she really did _belong_ for the first time her in life, she didn’t want to let Snow and the others monopolize her son’s time.  Emma was different; at least she understood what it was like to share their son, and they’d come to a sort of unspoken agreement even before Henry had been kidnapped and taken to Neverland.  But the others kept trying to smother Henry with affection, leaving Regina to be only one of a group around him instead of having time they could spend alone.  Even her blooming relationship with Robin (and with Roland, who could not remember his mother and clung to Regina as if she already _was_ his mother) didn’t erase the ache in her heart that missing Henry created, so when Henry came to her the second morning, Regina was more than happy to find a quiet corner to talk to him in. 

Her little boy smiled.  He’d grown so _big_ in the year she’d missed and was almost a man now.  Looking at him made her eyes to mist over and her throat grow tight. 

“Of course not,” Henry replied immediately. “I mean, you’re doing it for the right reasons, right?” 

“I’m trying,” Regina admitted.  “Sometimes it’s hard.” 

Over the last year, she’d often thought of how Henry hadn’t wanted her to use magic back in Storybrooke, how he’d pushed her to find other ways to live.  Of course, Henry hadn’t said anything after their return from Neverland, but there hadn’t been much time where it wasn’t actually _Pan_ in Henry’s body, and Regina had wondered if her son might still feel that she was better off without magic.  After all, it was magic in the form of Pan’s curse and then hers that tore them apart once more, and it was magic that had allowed Pan to trick her.  Would Henry be disappointed in what she had become?  Regina feared he would, because she didn’t know what she’d _be_ in the Enchanted Forest without magic…and the others needed her. 

Before Rumplestiltskin had returned—and then, quite predictably, vanished as thoroughly as if he wasn’t in the same castle as everyone else—Regina had been the _only_ magic user fighting against the Witch if one didn’t count the fairies.  They _needed_ her.  Much though she hated to admit it, that need was one of the most addicting drugs she’d ever encountered, worse than even dark magic.  For the first time in her entire life, Regina actually felt like she was making a difference, like others were depending upon her, and she liked that feeling. 

“Grandma Snow says that you’re the reason they haven’t lost the war already,” Henry said next, and Regina felt a genuine if wry smile warm her face. 

“Does she now?” 

_Leave it to Snow to say something so damn heartfelt to my son, and of course, she_ means _it._ Snow’s way of wearing her heart on her sleeve, of being so free with her forgiveness and affections, still left Regina feeling uneasy, but at least thinking of her stepdaughter no longer caused the burning need for vengeance it once had. 

“Yeah.  Mom asked her if she’d gone crazy, but that’s just Emma.  And Grandma Snow just said that things are different now.” 

“Oh, they certainly are.”  Regina moved over to sit next to Henry, wrapping an arm around him.  “I missed you, Henry.” 

“I missed you, too, Mom.”

 

****************

 

The next few days passed quietly.  Rumplestiltskin avoided the others like the plague, staying in his room or his tower and trying to sleep off the aches, pains, and doubts.  He accomplished the first two, more or less, but had little success with the third.  By the time the fifth morning rolled around, however, he at least had a better grip on his own mind, having mostly separated out which memories were his and which were not.  A few well-placed mental blocks (not unlike the ones he’d used to contain his curse-created memories back in Storybrooke) kept the not-memories from intruding when he didn’t want them to, allowing him to achieve a sort of equilibrium that actually let him _feel_ sane, not just act like it. 

The quietness in his mind also took some getting used to.  Nearly three hundred years had passed while he listened to his curse whisper in his mind, urging him towards violence and darkness and rage.  Rumplestiltskin had learned to placate the monster within himself to a certain degree: he made deals to manage the price of magic, manipulated rather than killed when it would serve his larger purpose, and generally channeled his darkness where _he_ wanted it to go rather than where _it_ preferred.  He’d lived with it for so long that his inner imp was almost an old friend, and finding out that his mind his own was rather…startling. 

However, it helped that the curse had been broken before the fae held him, that even when his mind had cartwheeled off the deep end and his memories made no sense, his terrors were all his own.  It also helped that he’d almost alwayshad nightmares.  Once he’d learned to use those same mental blocks as the Dark One, he’d shoved aside the memories of his predecessors, save for when they proved useful, but those blocks no more worked in his sleep then than they did now.  Plenty of his old nightmares had been driven by things Rumplestiltskin had done, but the majority of them had actually been scenes out of horrors _other_ Dark Ones had visited upon people in the centuries before Rumplestiltskin took the dagger.  Or horrors visited upon _them_ when someone else had the dagger. 

Now, of course, his nightmares were almost solely his own, either from his confused memories or just from the torture he’d endured.  He’d been tempted, more than once, to mix himself up a potion to provide himself with dreamless sleep, but the same stubbornness that kept him from asking for help kept him from indulging.  Dreams were the subconscious’ way of expressing itself, and what little soul he still had left was quite battered enough without his damaging it willy-nilly with potions.  Instead, he chose to endure the nightmares and was simply thankful that Belle was there to see him through them. 

Thankfully, she was as stubborn as he was, and every time he managed to say something stupid and try to drive her away—for her own safety or sanity, more often than not—she shot him down.  Rumplestiltskin always regretted such words almost as soon as he said them, but he didn’t exactly have a habit of making the right choices. 

“Are you going to show your face today?” Belle asked him that morning, her voice neutral.  

Dawn had found him unable to sleep and Rumplestiltskin had gone to his tower to spin instead.  Belle had finally drifted off after his last bout of nightmares, and she got little enough sleep while trying to deal with his demons.  Unwilling to share his own insomnia with her, he’d slipped away while she slept peacefully, drawing on his new magic to dress and send himself to the workroom in his tower. 

The transition came dizzily fast, but he was at least gratified to find that his oldest spinning wheel had returned home.  This was the same wheel that had been in his basement in Storybrooke; the larger and nicer one that had been in his shop’s backroom must have gone back to the castle’s great hall.  This wheel, however, had been the one he’d inherited from the spinsters who raised him, the one that a poor spinner had used to earn a living for his wife and child.  Rumplestiltskin had spent many of his darker and more self-loathing moments wondering why he’d kept it at all, but right now he was very glad that he had.  Watching the wheel let him blank his mind out, let him concentrate on the simple repetitive motions of his hands and one foot on the pedal, and just for a little while, it let him forget. 

Belle had, of course, found him some hours after he’d realized that he was still spinning gold, and now he turned slightly to answer her question. 

“Does that mean you want me to stop playing the monster in the tower?” he asked lightly.  

Belle scowled.  Glared.  “You’re not a monster.” 

“It was a quip, sweetheart.” Rumplestiltskin gave her a small smile, which only earned him an exasperated look.  No, his fiery beauty probably never would like him joking about that, particularly now.  Still, when he stopped spinning to clear space for her to sit next to him at the wheel, Belle relented and smiled back before she joined him. 

“You’re looking better,” she said instead of arguing. 

“I feel better.”  _I think._   “I’m starting to get a handle on this magic, anyway.” 

Two days had passed before Rumplestiltskin had admitted to Belle that his new power was a mystery to him.  Before that, he’d just slept, ate what Belle fed him, and generally tried to figure out who he was without the curse.  Meanwhile, Belle had run interference with everyone else in the castle, convinced them to leave him alone, and sent a short message to Baelfire to tell him that his father was alive.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure how he would have managed to put himself together without her constant reassuring presence, but all quips aside, he was starting to feel like he could face the world again without flinching. 

Probably without turning people into noxious creatures for looking at him wrong, too. 

“Is it helping?” 

Rumplestiltskin considered skirting the topic before replying: “Magic always does.” 

Belle just squeezed his arm and offered him another smile that made his heart flutter in a better way than it had in at least a year.  “So, have you decided yet?” 

“Decided what?”  Search his mind though he did, Rumplestiltskin couldn’t recall what he was supposed to be deciding about, and Belle’s soft laugh didn’t help matters. 

“Whether you want to be a monster or not, of course.” 

“Ah.  _That_.”  Finally, his crooked smile felt real enough, even to him, and the expression hadn’t even been forced.  But he _did_ know the answer.  _I want the life where you and I are together,_ he had told her back in Storybrooke.  Belle deserved better than a monster, and for the first time in their convoluted relationship, he was in a position to give her something, some _one_ , better than the monster he had been.  “You know, I do believe I have.” 

“And are you going to share this realization with me?”  Her playful smile told him that Belle knew that he wouldn’t choose darkness over her, not again, hard though it might be to be something new. 

Still, he wasn’t upset with his decision.  Uneasy, perhaps—but not unhappy. 

“I suppose I’ll simply be Rumplestiltskin,” he answered honestly.  “I’ll never make the hero type, Belle—even before I was the Dark One, I was never that… _good_.  But that doesn’t mean I have to be evil, either.  I can try to be better, or at least to do things for the right reasons.” 

The smile she turned on him was as bright as the sun, and he knew that he’d _finally_ said the right thing, finally made the right choice. 

There was nothing to say that he’d keep doing that, of course, but it was a start.

 

****************

 

“Good luck to you,” David said, shaking Thomas’ hand with a smile.  Standing next to the King—people had finally decided to start calling Charming a king after their last victory, it seemed—Baelfire wasn’t surprised that Prince Thomas didn’t offer to shake his hand, and just gave the younger man a parting nod. 

Thomas was obviously trying to ignore Rumplestiltskin’s son, particularly now that rumors that the old trickster _lived_ were working their way around the army, but Baelfire let the attempted insult slide.  He didn’t care if Thomas’ nose was out of joint.  His father was alive.  He still burned to know the details of how it had happened, however, because Belle’s note, sent via tablet from the Dark Castle, was maddeningly short.  ( _Rumplestiltskin’s alive and home,_ she’d written.  _He’s fine. More later – Belle)._ Of course, the others kept looking at Bae like he was supposed to know how Rumplestiltskin had pulled off the impossible.  _Again._   Even Thomas had asked, though he’d seemed more wary than pleased, of course.  He was probably wondering if he’d wind up vanishing again for payment on that reneged-upon deal now that Rumplestiltskin was back, but Bae didn’t have any answers for him. 

Unfortunately, that only made Thomas more hostile, particularly when Bae didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was happy with the news.  Because he _was_ happy.  Finally.  He’d spent years running from magic, spent years being furious with his father for choosing power over him, and then hadn’t even wanted to admit that there might be something of his father left inside the Dark One after all.  It had taken their misadventures in Neverland to prove to Bae that his father had changed—or maybe he hadn’t understood him very well in the first place.  After all, he’d been fifteen when he left the Enchanted Forest, and the years he’d spent in Neverland meant that was a _long_ time ago.  Perhaps he’d been wrong, or perhaps Rumplestiltskin had just changed.  Either way, it meant that Baelfire had lost his father right after he’d gotten him back, and that loss had been almost crippling _._  

Losing his father certainly was responsible for his closeness with Belle, and even the odd friendship of sorts he’d formed with Regina.  He’d wished a hundred times for just a few more days, for just a chance to say any one of the thousand things he should have said before Rumplestiltskin sacrificed himself to save them.  And now he had that chance, so Thomas and the others who were upset by it could be damned for all Bae cared.  

Ella was rather more polite than her husband, and even kissed him on the cheek before her husband shot her a dirty look.  She stepped back to Thomas’ side as the prince replied: 

“Thank you.  There’s lots of work to do, but it’ll be worth it.  And you and Snow are always welcome, of course.  Along with Emma, of course.” 

Word that Emma and Henry were back had arrived shortly before Belle’s note had, making that day the single best one in Bae’s entire life.  Five days later, he was _still_ so light-hearted that no amount of petty insults from silly princelings could ruin his good mood, so he happily ignored Thomas’ attempts to belittle him.  Knowing that Emma and Henry were safe at the Dark Castle meant more to him than anything else, even if it had been Hook to bring them back.  He’d kicked himself more than once for not insisting on going to New York instead of Hook—Neal Cassidy knew that city, and knew the world that Hook had only spent a few brief months in—but the fact remained that he’d been needed here, and he _had_ made a difference while Hook had been off playing hero.  Now he could only hope that Emma hadn’t decided that Hook coming from her meant Bae didn’t care. 

_There are times that being responsible really sucks,_ he thought to himself.  _Like now, when I need to help set up our new line of defenses instead of rushing home to greet my kid and my-whatever-she is._  

Thomas and his entourage finally mounted their horses and rode away, leaving David and Baelfire standing alone.  Bae watched the group of thirty or so—all countrymen of Thomas’ heading home—for several long moments before saying what was on his mind.  Even then, his own words made him scowl.  Bae didn’t relish playing the part of paranoid-in-chief; he’d just wound up in that role since he was surrounded by optimists.  And he was too used to watching people double cross one another, probably due to his years in Neverland.  

Bae sighed.  “You’re going to have to keep an eye on his father, you know.” 

“I know,” David replied with a sigh of his own.  “King Francis is…well, let’s just say that I wish we’d been able to free Midas’ kingdom first.  _Midas_ doesn’t have an ounce of back down in him, and I don’t think the Witch intimidates him one bit.” 

“I suppose it’s hard to be intimidated by someone you can turn to gold with a touch,” Bae agreed with a chuckle.  “You know, kill an enemy and turn a profit all at the same time.” 

David snorted.  “Unlimited ability to make gold or no, that’s not a problem I’d like to have.  I’d rather finance my kingdom the old fashioned way.” 

“Kingdoms,” Bae corrected him with a smile.  “Don’t you have two?” 

“Well, one of them is technically Snow’s, but we are in this together, so…” 

“I wish someone would tell King Francis that.”  He tried not to scowl, but it was hard.  The last time Baelfire had seen King Francis—who, if possible, disliked him even _more_ than Thomas did—the old king had been adamant that his kingdom had to be the first freed from the Witch’s grasp.  Unfortunately, his arguments had been persuasive in terms of strategy and geography if nothing else, but the way he’d argued for his own territory had put Bae’s teeth on edge. 

It didn’t help that the other royals all knew Francis well enough to understand the type of king he was.  He always allied himself with the strongest power around.  He’d been one of Regina’s firmer allies in Storybrooke (he’d been Judge Herman there, which had given the mayor an advantage that couldn’t be discounted), and back before the curse, he’d apparently been in bed with Midas and Regina both, bouncing between whichever could offer him a better deal at the time.  At the bottom line, King Francis was like a damn weathervane, swinging whichever way the wind blew. 

“I don’t think _telling_ him will help at all,” David replied with uncharacteristic frustration.  “Threatening him might work, but what can we do that wouldn’t scare him into the Witch’s arms?” 

“Thomas offered to come back to the army.” 

“So?” 

“So take him up on it.”  The pieces were rapidly falling into place inside Baelfire’s head, and little though he might have liked Prince Thomas, he knew that the kid had a much stronger sense of honor than his father did.  “Even King Francis isn’t pragmatic enough to sacrifice his son and heir.  If Thomas is _here_ , fighting with us, Francis will stay on our side.” 

“And that gives us the ability to feed the army,” David agreed.  “Francis’ kingdom has farmland to spare, and when he gets people working the land again…” 

“Exactly.” 

_I hate politics._ It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the best they had.  Baelfire wasn’t sure when he’d wandered into the deep waters of Enchanted Forest politics, but here he was—advising a flipping _King_ on what to do to keep their fragile alliance together.  Worse yet, the King in question was the father of the woman he was in love with, and Bae still wasn’t quite sure how to approach that topic with David.  Somewhere during the last year, he and David had become actual _friends_ , so how did he explain to David that he still wanted a relationship with his daughter?  David and Snow accepted the fact that he was Henry’s father without too much argument, but accepting youthful indiscretions and accepting a relationship were so not the same thing. 

Was he playing at politics to prove to them that he was worthy of Emma?  To be honest, Bae wasn’t sure.  At least he knew that he hadn’t come out to the army for that reason, but politics were another matter entirely.  Why couldn’t the girl he fell for years ago have been as simple as she seemed back then?  Why did Emma have to be a damn _princess_?

 

****************

 

So far, Operation Jellyfish was a bust.  Ever since he and his mom had arrived in the Enchanted Forest, Henry had been trying to find a way to convince his othermom to teach him magic.  Regina had seemed worried at first that he’d be angry at her for using magic, and though he’d tried to reassure her—which was easy, because everyone kept talking about all the good Regina had done, and how badly they’d needed her over the last year—he still hadn’t managed to get around to his point subtly enough.  But coming right out and asking wasn’t an option, particularly since he didn’t get much time alone with Regina.  Left to her own devices, Regina would probably offer to teach him, but things weren’t that simple.  

Henry knew his birth mom well enough to know that Emma wouldn’t like him learning magic, particularly since she seemed disinclined to learn to use her _own_ magic, an odd decision that he didn’t understand at all.  Emma seemed to have a special kind of magic, too, or at least one that most people didn’t have, which meant she had _double_ the reasons to learn, but she wasn’t listening to that kind of logic, even when Regina mentioned it.  They only started arguing, and had to agree to disagree.  So Henry doubted that Emma wanted him to learn, which meant he had to sneak around her. 

It was kind of funny that Operation Jellyfish wasn’t about avoiding Regina’s attention.  No, this time he meant to outfox his other mother by convincing Regina that it was _her_ idea to teach him magic.  Unfortunately, so far she’d ignored all of his hints.  Henry didn’t think his mother was stupid, which meant she was deliberately overlooking his attempt to be subtle.  That probably had something to do with the way Pan had tricked her when he was in Henry’s body, but Henry wasn’t about to give up.  And when Regina’s many wards around the Dark Castle detected something odd—odd as in funny but not dangerous—he asked if he could go along with her when she went out to see which wild animal had managed to trap itself in a magical net.  Emma was busy with Hook, talking about something or another, so Regina let him tag along. 

He peppered her with questions about what magic she’d used during the mile-long walk out to her wards, hoping that Regina might come up with the idea on her own, but she seemed more interested in talking about the friends he’d made and the classes he’d taken back in New York.  _Why do parents always care about school and stuff?  It’s not like I’m going to use that here in the Enchanted Forest!_   The moment Hook had given him and Emma their memories back, Henry had been able to think of little else.  He’d waited his entire life to come back to the home he _should_ have grown up in, and he didn’t want to waste time thinking about school now. 

It wasn’t that Henry minded learning.  He just wanted to learn something other than dry Land Without Magic type academic stuff.  But thinking about learning actually gave him an idea, so he answered Regina’s next question about his school with: 

“Do you think you could teach me to ride a horse, Mom?  David started showing me back in Storybrooke, but we never really got very far.” 

Regina stopped to stare at him, a soft smile growing on her face.  “Of course I can, Henry.  Do you really want to learn?” 

“Definitely!  I mean, everyone needs to know here, right?  And it seems really fun.” 

“Riding can be fun, but it can also be a lot of work,” his mom replied.  “Are you ready for that?” 

“I’m thirteen, not _three_.  I can work hard.”  He would, too, and not just because getting Regina to teach him to ride was maybe the first step towards getting her to teach him magic.  Henry also missed spending time with just the two of them, the way it had been back in Storybrooke before everything changed.  He wouldn’t trade his new life for anything, but he did miss having Regina to himself. 

“You’d better work hard,” she cautioned him, but the stern words were ruined by her smile.  “I started riding when I was much younger than you are now, so you’ll have a lot of catching up to do.” 

“How old were you when you started?” 

A faraway look drifted onto her face, suddenly making Regina look much younger.  “Six.  My father always loved horses.” 

“You named me after him, right?”  He remembered the casket in the vault in Storybrooke, and spent a moment wondering where it had gone in this new world.  Most items seemed to have gone back to where they were before the curse hit; would that have returned to Grandma Snow’s kingdom, too? 

“I did.”  Her smile was wistful.  “You remind me of him, sometimes.  Even if you aren’t actually related by blood.” 

On impulse, Henry hugged his mother one-armed as they walked, and basked in the radiant smile she gave him.  Years ago, when he’d thought Regina didn’t love him, he’d been so very wrong.  She’d just had problems showing it, but he understood that now that he was older and wiser. 

“You’re still my mom,” he said softly.  “And—” 

Henry cut off as Regina stopped abruptly, stepping in front of him as her hands came up. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked breathlessly, his heart suddenly pounding. 

“I know that _creature_ ,” she hissed, making Henry’s eyes follow Regina’s.  There.  About twenty feet away, shielded from view by a tree before now, a short black unicorn stood trapped in an invisible web of magic, staring pathetically at the pair.  It didn’t seem afraid of them, though, and seemed just to be waiting patiently for someone to free it. 

“Aren’t unicorns supposed to be good?” Henry wondered.  “How could it get caught in your magic, if the spells are only supposed to keep the bad creatures out?” 

The unicorn bleated hopefully as if to underline Henry’s point, stretching its nose out towards him in a silent plea for help.  Although the stubby-legged creature was nothing like Henry had expected a unicorn to look—he’d always imagined them a lot taller and way more majestic—it looked so sad and so friendly that he felt obligated to help it.  And to pet it, too.  Was it okay to pet unicorns? 

“It’s not the unicorn I’m worried about, Henry,” Regina growled, looking around cautiously. 

“Then what is it?  We can’t just leave him there.  We should help him.” 

Regina scowled.  “Not just yet.  What I’m worried about is that—” 

“That my innocent pet would only be trapped if I put it there?” another voice intruded, and Henry spun around to face a second woman, one who wore an interesting headdress and was clad in many shades of purple and black.  Her voice was ice cold, however, and her face twisted up in evil amusement.  She had one hand on a staff, and stood a dozen or so feet away from them where Henry had been _certain_ there’d been only grass a few moments earlier.  “You’re slipping, Regina,” the other sorceress said, because she _had_ to be using magic.  “You should have noticed the ruse as soon as you left the Dark Castle.” 

“I was distracted,” his mom ground out, clenching her fists.  “Maleficent.” 

“Hello to you, too, _old friend_.” 

But there was nothing friendly in her voice, and Henry was really starting to get worried.   _Be brave,_ he told himself.  He came from a family of heroes and sorcerers.  Henry wouldn’t let himself be anything other than strong.  “Mom?” he whispered.  “What’s going on?” 

“I’ll handle this, Henry,” was all Regina said, stepping in front of him. 

He swallowed as Maleficent’s cold gaze zeroed in on him.  Her hair was loose and dark shadows framed her eyes, giving her a wild look.  Despite his resolution to be brave, Henry shivered. 

“So you’re the boy,” Maleficent said thoughtfully.  “Stand aside.  Unlike your ‘mother,’ I do not make war upon children or innocents.” 

Henry scowled, remembering the stories in his book.  “Didn’t you curse Sleeping Beauty at her christening?  I’d say cursing a baby counts for evil.” 

“Be silent!” the fallen fairy thundered, her fury making wind whip viciously around Henry and Regina.  But Regina didn’t back down; in fact, she stepped closer to the other sorceress, her hands up and ready to cast magic. 

“Leave my son out of this, Maleficent,” she snarled.  “But if you want a fight, you’ve got one.” 

“Oh, I want more than a fight, Regina,” the other retorted.  “I want _revenge._ ” 

“Get in line.” 

Something very like pain crossed Maleficent’s face before it was replaced by hard anger.  “I was your friend!  I would have stood by you, and instead you forced me to guard a stupid broken _coffin_ for twenty-eight years!  And if that wasn’t insult enough, your magic wouldn’t even let me die when the savior threw her sword into my heart.  No, it forced my spirit to stand guard over your failsafe, _just in case_ you wanted to destroy everyone a second time,” she spat.  “But unfortunately for you, I _was_ a fairy.  And you left me alive.” 

“Are you going to try to talk me to death?” Regina demanded, laughing.  Her obvious confidence made Henry stare; he’d never really seen this side of his mother, and she was _amazing._   “Because I promise you that even if I am trying to be good, my magic is no less powerful than it was.   And I’m sure you remember who won our _last_ encounter.” 

“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Maleficent replied, and her staff came up.  

Regina moved to counter her, but no sooner had the words left Maleficent’s mouth than a sudden wall of darkness rose up out of the ground in front of Regina and Henry, thick and black and feeling of death.  It hit them both before Henry could even begin to shout a warning, and then everything went black. 

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the questions for this chapter: 1) What do you think Maleficent has in mind for Regina, and 2) What do you think the price of Rumplestiltskin’s new magic is? Some of you came very close in guessing where his magic comes from, but the cost of it is something else entirely. 
> 
> In the meantime, please review to let me know what you think! Stay tuned for Chapter 9: “Strange Bedfellows,” in which Emma, Henry, Hook, and an unexpected ally go to look into Regina’s disappearance, and Charming runs afoul of one of the Witch’s nastier attacks.


	10. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina's disappearance is investigated. Meanwhile, David and Bae discover something is Very Wrong with the ogres attacking them.

**_Chapter Nine—“Strange Bedfellows”_ **

“Mom!” 

Looking dirty and disheveled, Henry came running into the great hall, where Emma and Hook had been pouring over maps of the various kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest.  Emma would be the first to admit that her geography was shoddy even in the world she’d grown up in (after all, why else pick a place to live by blindly stabbing at a map?), but she had a feeling that she’d actually need to understand borders and countries and such in the crazy world her parents were from.  So, she’d grabbed Hook, who seemed to be the least busy person in the entire Dark Castle, and demanded he show her a thing or to. 

She hadn’t really been counting on the fact that Hook only looked at the borders between kingdoms when said boundaries touched the water, or that he’d spent centuries more in Neverland than he had in the Enchanted Forest.  He was _from_ here, of course, but apparently hadn’t ever paid any more attention to geography than she did, which meant he was somewhere around zero help.  Ruby had pulled out some maps for them, however, which at least meant they could take a stab at educating themselves.  Emma figured she’d have a thousand and one questions for her mother later, but at the moment Snow was busy mediating a dispute between representatives of King Midas and someone else.  Trying to keep the various royals straight was enough to give Emma a headache, but at least her mother managed well enough.  From what Emma had gathered, Snow was the glue that kept their disjointed “Grand Alliance” together, and hardly a day went by when someone new didn’t tromp on up to the Dark Castle to have Snow settle some problem or another. 

Maps forgotten, she spun towards her son.  “What’s wrong, Henry?”  A split second passed before she remembered where her son had gone off to, and more importantly, who he had gone with.  “Where’s Regina?” 

“Gone,” Henry panted.  His hair was sticking up in the back, and were those leaves tangled in it?  “Maleficent must have set some kind of trap, or something, and when I woke up, Mom was _gone!_ We have to go find her!” 

“Hang on a sec, here, kid,” Emma interjected before Henry could get too far ahead of himself.  Walking over to her son, she put a hand on his shoulder.  “Where were you, and what exactly happened?” 

“We were about a mile away.  Near the road.  I ran back.”   

No wonder Henry was breathing hard.   

“We should go investigate immediately,” Hook put in before Emma could reply.  “Regina might not be far.” 

“She’s not there!  I looked,” Henry glared at the pirate. 

“We should go anyway,” Emma reasoned.  “There might be clues to where she is _now_.”

Henry looked up at her, his brown eyes huge and watery.  “It’s my fault,” he whispered.  “I distracted her.  If I hadn’t been there, she’d have seen Maleficent, and she could have _done_ something.” 

“Oh, Henry.”  At thirteen, he was almost too old for comforting hugs, but Emma wrapped her arm around him, anyway.  “It’s not your fault.  And I know Regina won’t blame you, either.  Let’s just go find her, okay?” 

Henry nodded as Hook asked: “Hold for one moment, love—isn’t Maleficent the name of that dragon you slew, and the same nasty spirit that Regina left lurking underneath the library in Storybrooke?” 

“Yeah.  So?” 

“I do remember her quite well, but she wasn’t particularly dangerous when I last encountered her.  Her spirit was an angry little beastie, but hardly the sort Regina could fail to overcome.”  Hook shrugged eloquently, his handsome face creased thoughtfully.  “So, I hate to doubt young Henry, but might we be dealing with someone else?” 

“Mom _said_ it was Maleficent, and I saw her.  She looked just like she did in the book,” Henry retorted.

For the first time ever, Emma actually missed Henry’s storybook.  While she certainly believed that Henry had all but memorized it back in Storybrooke, a year _had_ passed, and she didn’t recall Maleficent being a major character.  Heck, she hardly remembered her as anything other than a dragon, and Emma had only learned her name later, anyway.  Much later.   

“Then perhaps someone is impersonating her,” Hook replied, oblivious to the fact that Henry was glaring at him again. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Emma interjected before her son and her whatever-he-was could get into a spat.  Was Hook a boyfriend?  She wasn’t sure.  She was attracted to him, sure, but she’d been attracted to plenty of men over the years.  They’d only kissed once, and even if it had been rather extraordinary, it was _only_ a kiss.  “We need to figure out what happened no matter who did it.  So let’s get moving.” 

 “You’re going to need some help with that, dearie.” 

Spinning around, Emma was surprised to find Gold walking down a nearby set of stairs.  He was dressed rather like he’d been in Neverland, except the odd leather outfit apparently came in shades of brown in this world, right down to freaking leather _pants_.   Rather like they had in Neverland, though, the clothes suited him in an odd way, and Emma immediately noticed that there seemed to be something different about him here.  Perhaps it was just the lack of a cane.  Emma would never get used to thinking of Gold without one.  Then again, she might have had more of a chance to get used to the sight if not for the fact that he might as well have been on another planet since the day they’d both returned.  So far as Emma knew, no one other than Belle had seen much of him, which wouldn’t have bothered her one bit if the man wasn’t Henry’s other grandfather.

So she scowled at him.  “What, are you volunteering?” 

Because of course he wouldn’t.  Although Emma had never really managed to define the relationship between Gold and Regina, she knew that while Regina was obviously trying to do the right thing and fight with the good guys, Gold wasn’t the type.  No, he’d rather sit on the sidelines and watch.  Maybe he’d try to manipulate others into doing what he wanted _._  Even in Neverland, when he’d claimed to be along to help, he’d only gone off on his own.  Not a team player, Gold. 

“Indeed I am.”  He smiled thinly. 

“Why?” Apparently Hook shared her suspicions. 

“Because unless our dear Miss Swan has developed her magical talent during the last year, someone is going to need to determine if Regina’s disappearance was Maleficent’s doing or not,” Gold replied, wearing his maddening I-know-more-than-you expression.   

“I’ve been in the Land _Without_ Magic, Gold,” Emma glared.  How dare he try to put this on her?  “And without my memories.  That didn’t exactly give me a lot of time for magic practice.”  

He blinked, seemingly taken aback by what she’d said.  A flicker of confusion crossed his face, making Emma scowl even harder.  Not that she didn’t relish the opportunity to catch Gold off guard, but she didn’t appreciate having done so by accident.  _This is just weird._   Gold, however, recovered quickly, and soon he was wearing the same passively thoughtful look that was absolutely programed to drive her insane, right down to the all-knowing twitch of a smile. 

“My point exactly,” he said smoothly, as if nothing had disturbed him at all.  “And you really should get used to using my name, dear, because I assure you—it’s not Gold.  Particularly here.” 

“What, you actually go by that mouthful you call a name?” she shot back.

Gold chuckled softly.  “Oh, I most certainly do.” 

So, that was how Emma, Hook, and Henry wound up tromping down the road leading away from the Dark Castle with the most infuriating man Emma had ever met—and since she’d had a meaningful relationship with his _son_ , that was saying something!  Hook wasn’t above shooting half-wary, half-hostile looks at Gold/Rumplestiltskin (did he _really_ expect people to call him that?), but given the history those two had, Emma wasn’t surprised.  And she didn’t blame Hook, either, because _she_ had enough history with Gold to not trust him at all.  Even when he was supposedly on their side. 

He’d proven damn trustworthy when it came to getting rid of Pan, but Emma figured that accepting Regina as a good guy—which she’d done—was enough metal gymnastics for now.  Regina at least had motivations that Emma could understand.  Gold was a whole lot more cagey, and even if Regina had told them where he’d apparently been for the last year, Emma wasn’t sure he could be trusted.  He’d played them far too many times back in Storybrooke.  Henry, of course, decided that now was a great time to have a conversation with his other grandfather.

“Can you really help find my mom?” her son asked quietly. 

“Of course I can, Henry,” Gold replied, and not for the first time, Emma was grateful that he was always nicer to kids than he was to adults.  Then again, Henry probably had a bit of innate protection, being the man’s grandson and all—from what Neal had told her, Gold _did_ feel family was important, despite the many problems father and son seemed to have.  But at least those problems seemed to be in the past.  _For Henry’s sake, they’d better be!_   Still listening, Emma pushed aside a sudden pang of longing to see Neal again, telling herself that she missed him for Henry’s sake.   

“But I thought you wouldn’t have magic with your curse broken.”  Leave it to Henry to voice the thought everyone was having; apparently even Regina hadn’t gotten a straight answer on that front, though Belle probably had. 

Gold chuckled, and his voice took on an odd sing-song-y note when he replied:  “Well, I do like to keep people on their toes.”  

“But did you _know_ you’d have magic?  And if you knew, why wouldn’t you want your curse broken sooner?” Henry pressed. 

“That’s a complicated question,” Gold replied.  “Some curses—particularly the more powerful ones—take on a life of their own over time.  Depending upon how they were created, they either want to be broken, or they want to survive.  Take the Dark Curse, for example.  That curse _wanted_ to be broken.  I made sure of that when I wrote it.” 

“Really?” 

“Why do you think the curse created your book?” 

Emma’s son turned wide eyes on his grandfather, thoroughly distracted away from his worry for Regina.  “Wow.  That’s really cool.”

“I’ll admit that I didn’t expect a story book, but I did know the curse would do _something._   I never anticipated you, though.” 

“Why not?  You can still see the future, can’t you?  I didn’t think that had anything to do with your curse.” 

“I can.  But the ability to see the future isn’t like watching a movie.  It’s more like having the pieces to a hundred different puzzles and not knowing where each piece goes, or even which puzzle that piece belongs in.  It takes a lot of practice to get it right, and even then, you never see everything,” Gold admitted. 

“That sounds really complicated.” 

“Very.” 

“So about your curse,” Emma’s son turned back to the subject she was most interested in as she and Hook walked behind the pair.  Bless his curious heart.  “Was it one of the ones that didn’t want to be broken?” 

“Oh, yes.”  Gold’s face twitched suspiciously.  “The curse of the Dark One is, at its core, absolute darkness.  It might even be the oldest curse in the world, though our history of magic is spotty at best.” 

Emma exchanged a glance with Hook during the impromptu magical lecture; she really wasn’t interested in big picture magic any more than Hook was, but Henry looked absolutely enraptured.  And knowing if Gold’s curse really _was_ broken—and what that meant—was useful, too.  Under other circumstances, she might have tried to put a stop to the conversation—magic wasn’t quite what Henry needed to be learning—but at least it was working to distract Henry from his frantic worry about Regina.  At the moment, that counted for a lot, too, even if Hook was rolling his eyes while she tried not to snicker.  Henry looked so solemn and fascinated, though, and Emma couldn’t bring herself to laugh at him.  Or even to let him think she might be. 

Finally, they reached yet another bend in the continuously winding road that led away from the gates.  The trees were starting to grow a little closer to the road, now—before, they’d seemed to form some sort of unnatural corridor, almost as if afraid to grow too close.  Henry pointed off to the right as the direction he and Regina had headed, and the quartet turned that way.  Emma and Hook drifted a bit further to the right than the other two; exchanging another silent glance of agreement.  If trouble showed up, they were undoubtedly better suited to deal with it than Henry or his recently-back-from-the-dead grandfather.  She’d snagged a sword from the armory back at the Dark Castle, and Emma already knew Hook was handy in a fight. 

“Shouldn’t the fairies know what happened in the beginning?” Henry asked next, and Emma didn’t miss the way Gold’s eyes narrowed in distaste when she glanced over her left shoulder at the pair.  “I mean, the Blue Fairy is pretty much from the beginning of magic, isn’t she?” 

“That she is.”  It definitely wasn’t Emma’s imagination; Gold’s voice had gone a bit sharper on that answer. 

“So, why don’t you ask her?” 

Gold chuckled, but this time his voice was low and absolutely lacking in mirth.  “You might say that Reul Ghorm and I don’t precisely see eye to—stop walking, Miss Swan.” 

Emma stopped cold, grabbing Hook’s arm so that he did the same.   A moment passed with no explanation, so she turned and demanded:   

“What the hell, Gold?” 

He wasn’t even looking at her, and he certainly didn’t seem to be working magic, either.  Instead his gaze was fastened somewhere in the middle distance, unfocused and probably not seeing the trees he was staring at.  And there was _nothing to stare at_.  Emma couldn’t _feel_ anything, either, even when she strained with her senses or with the magic she often wished she didn’t have.  But there was nothing.  Sneaking another glance at Gold, she noticed that he _still_ hadn’t done anything other than stop, either. 

“This _isn’t_ funny,” Emma snarled. 

“Nor should it be,” Gold finally replied, his voice blasé again.  “But another few steps and you would have walked into a trap of rather impressive magnitude.   Here.  Allow me to help you visualize.” 

Smoothly, his right hand came up from his side, palm up and fingers flicking outwards, as if Gold was tossing something very gently.  A moment later, light leapt into the air about fifteen feet in front of Emma, sparkling purple and black and red.  It hung in the air, looking like long and thick threads that were laced intricately together into a giant loosely woven tapestry.  _No, it’s_ two _tapestries._ The first hung vertically, almost like a wall, ready for Emma and Hook to walk unknowingly into.  The second hung perpendicular to the first, hovering behind it in the air, looking like a net.  It wasn’t moving, but somehow Emma got the impression that the net was designed to drop down and trap someone. 

 _Probably us._  

“What _is_ that?” Hook asked from her right, sounding almost a little awed. 

“That’s magic,” Henry answered for Gold, and Emma was surprised to see the sorcerer smile slightly at his grandson.  But the answer wasn’t enough, so she looked back at Gold. 

“Why is it _visible_?  Why now?” 

“Because I made it so,” he replied.  “When you grow accustomed to magic, Miss Swan, when you embrace its use instead of thinking of it as simply another tool, you _can_ see magic.  All magic.” 

She stared dubiously at the shiny threads hanging in the air.   Back before she and Henry had left Storybrooke, Emma had just started to be able to _feel_ magic, but only when she was trying very hard.  “Are you trying to say that you see magic like this all the time?” 

“See, feel, taste.”  Gold shrugged.  “Magic isn’t one of your five senses.  It’s another sense entirely.  Some spells are simply easier to deconstruct when you can visualize them.” 

“Deconstruct?” Hook spoke up warily, and Emma had to agree.  That… _mess_ didn’t look ready to go away. In fact, it looked damn sturdy, and dangerous, too.  Now that she could see the magic, she was starting to be able to feel it, too, and it _felt_ dark and nasty.  Emma shivered. 

“Of course.  Believe me, this isn’t the type of thing you want to leave hanging around.”   

Stepping towards the magical tapestry, Gold raised his right hand, curling his first two fingers as if he was beckoning the magic towards himself.  After a moment, the vertical mess shivered and one thread started to separate from the others, slithering through the air towards Gold.  Then his left hand came up, repeating the same process with the horizontal net-looking spell.  Both strands moved slowly at first, and then faster and faster—and then suddenly both spells collapsed in on themselves, the threads falling towards the ground and disintegrating.  Emma could feel the magic dissipating, too, floating off into the air and going…well, she didn’t know where.  But it was definitely leaving. 

And then the shimmering messes of threads were gone, leaving the forest looking and feeling normal. 

“Is that it?” Emma blurted out even as Henry asked: 

“Is that what took Mom away?” 

Gold turned to look at his grandson.  “In part.  That _is_ , or rather was, Maleficent’s magic.  The first spell is what knocked you both unconscious, and the second one transported Regina to the Forbidden Fortress.  However, the second spell was…tweaked a little bit.  Anyone trying to use it to follow Regina would wind up somewhere else entirely.” 

“Clever,” Hook said approvingly as Henry frowned. 

“Then we have to go to the Forbidden Fortress, don’t we?” 

“The only place you’re going is back to the Dark Castle,” Emma told her son, cutting in before Gold could encourage him.  This wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone off to rescue Regina for Henry’s sake, but there was no way in hell she was going to bring their thirteen year old son with her! 

“Mom, I’m—” 

“Not coming,” she cut him off. 

“”Your mother is right, Henry.”  Surprisingly, it was Gold backing her up instead of Hook.  “In fact, I daresay that no one should go to the Forbidden Fortress at all.” 

“What?” Emma gaped even as Hook demanded:

“Have you gone mad?  I may not like Regina much, but we can’t leave her there.  We _need_ her.” 

Gold only snorted.  “If Maleficent wanted Regina dead, we would have found her body, not a trap designed to delay pursuit.  Maleficent and Regina have a complicated friendship, but I assure you, it _is_ a friendship.  She won’t harm her.  Or at least not permanently.”

 

****************

 

“This is getting bad,” David grumbled, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and stone.  Or at least he hoped it was stone.  The way the roof was coming down around them, he couldn’t really be certain. 

“That’s an understatement,” Baelfire muttered from his right, rising up out of his crouch long enough to peek out one of the arrow slits in the wall.  “They’re only getting closer, and the fires are just about out.” 

“Great.”

The pair—along with a good portion of their army, but not as much of it as David would have hoped for, given the current situation—were stuck inside an ancient army fort, one built probably long before even Baelfire had been born.  They’d co-opted and repaired the place, and its half dozen fellows, in order to form a defensive line from which to engage the Witch’s forces, but David sure hadn’t expected an attack within a day of their arrival.   _Even if I had, I wouldn’t have expected ogres!_  

Baelfire’s typical thoroughness had saved them.  When the ogres had appeared—almost out of nowhere!—two hours earlier, they’d run afoul of several lines of buried oil, which the archers had quickly made ignite.  That trap was quickly becoming Baelfire’s trademark way of dealing with ogres, and it was the one thing, short of archers and catapults, that was always guaranteed to work.  Ogres _always_ were afraid of fire.  It seemed to be part of their genetic makeup, and fire always chased them off.  Had Greek Fire existed in the Enchanted Forest, David would have used that against them, but no one seemed to have invented the predecessor of napalm, though Doc was working on something like it.  For the moment, however, the buried oil was the best option, and David was darn glad that Baelfire had insisted on digging that into the ground before their foot soldiers got settled in. 

David would have never expected Baelfire to make a general, but Henry’s father had a habit of pulling off surprises.  He hadn’t expected to _like_ the (sort of) younger man this much, either, but by now they were more than a smooth and efficient team—they were friends.  In fact, although he’d come to respect Hook during their time in Neverland, he liked Baelfire a great deal more than he did the pirate, and David hoped like hell that Emma shared his opinion.  Knowing his stubborn daughter as he did, however, David had no intention of telling her.  It would only make Emma contrary.  

“We’ve got to do something about this.  And about the damned monkeys.  Who taught them to drop rocks on us like this?”  Almost on cue, a rumbling noise came from above the pair.  The fortress was only three stories high, and they’d abandoned the top floor an hour ago when parts of the roof started caving in, but pretty soon there wouldn’t be enough space for everyone inside.  Baelfire made a rude gesture at the ceiling and continued:  “Man, what I wouldn’t give for a shotgun right now.” 

“A machine gun would be better.  But to be honest, I’m more worried about the ogres,” David said, listening to the second rumble carefully.  At least it didn’t sound like the entire roof had collapsed; apparently, flying monkeys could be trained to drop big rocks, but not to aim them very well. 

“Yeah, they’re not exactly acting normally.”  Baelfire snuck another look out.  “I think our boys are running out of arrows, and the ogres don’t seem as afraid of fire as they should be.  It _also_ looks like something is controlling them.” 

A shiver ran down David’s spine.  “Are you sure?” 

“Come look for yourself.” 

Heaving himself up off the floor—the second to last group of rocks that the monkeys dropped had knocked both of them off their feet—David stumbled over to where Baelfire crouched next to the archery slit and peered out. 

Their archers had given up firing in volleys some time earlier; they were each shooting individually, now, trying for the critical shot to the eye that would take an ogre out.  But Baelfire was right; they were clearly running out of arrows, because the rate of fire was dying down quickly.  But that wasn’t really what caught David’s eye.  No, what captured his attention was something much more worrisome.  It was impossible, utterly unheard of and went thoroughly against everything David knew about ogres.  He’d been fighting them—with more success than any other general in history—for over a year.  David knew them, knew what ogres were capable of.  Yet he’d never seen anything like this.   

The ogres were in a _battle_ _formation._ And were those some sort of _shields_ they were carrying?  David resisted the urge to swear under his breath. 

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.” 

“See?” Baelfire asked quietly.  “I told you they were acting weird.” 

 _Weird_ didn’t begin to describe how the ogres were fighting, but David supposed that really wasn’t the most important issue at the moment.  The bottom line was that the few hundred soldiers they’d brought to this place really weren’t enough to fight off a few dozen ogres under any circumstances.  The particular situation only sent things from bad to even worse, but they were going to lose even if the ogres started acting normally that very instant. 

“We need help,” David breathed. 

Baelfire didn’t argue.  “I’ll go down and see if we can’t slow them down.  You write Snow and tell her to send Regina.” 

“You got it.” 

 _I sure hope Regina is feeling feisty today, because we’re going to need all the anger and fire she can summon up._ David didn’t even want to think about the irony of calling on the Evil Queen to quell evil creatures, particularly given the fact that said Evil Queen had locked him in a dungeon, fed his fiancé a poisoned apple, tried repeatedly to murder him, invaded his wedding with threats, and then cursed David and everyone else he knew into the worst world she could possibly imagine.  Yet, despite everything, Regina was also the woman who with whom he had risked everything in Neverland, and who had raised his grandson.   

He was okay with depending upon her.  More than okay, actually.  David wasn’t sure when that had happened, but he pulled out the tablet and started to write: 

 _Snow—David here.  We’re at the old fort seven miles east of Weselton.  Under attack by ogres, need Regina fast._  

There really wasn’t anything else to say, so David shoved the tablet back into the pouch on his belt and headed down to join the fight. 

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question time! 1) What do you think Maleficent intends to do with Regina and (in case it slipped your mind) 2) Do you think Snow and David are going to have a boy or girl? 
> 
> In the meanwhile, stay tuned for Chapter 10: “A Stain on the Soul” in which Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin finally reunite, the Blue Fairy expresses some doubts, and you find out the answer to question #2. Please do take a moment to review and let me know what you think!


	11. A Stain on the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which reunions happen, the Witch's power is explored, and Blue and Snow have a chat.

**_Chapter Ten—“A Stain on the Soul”_ **

 

When he appeared an hour later, he found Charming and his officers gathered in a dirty, crumbling room on the second floor of the fort, staring at one another in confusion.  Every one of them looked haggard and run down, and the dirt covering the dozen or so faces often made it hard to tell the men apart from the few women.  One of the officers was trying to explain: 

“—suddenly stopped.  Then a giant wall of fire just sprang up out of nowhere and started burning them.  The ogres kept trying to advance through the flames, but they just…” 

“Burned, I daresay,” he interjected, wandering straight into this conversation the way he’d wandered into so many others.  

Everyone whirled to stare at him, and it was almost like he’d stepped backwards in time to before the Dark Curse.  For a moment, he had to fight back the urge to look down at his hands and see if they were suddenly golden-grayish again, with scales and black claws that called themselves fingernails.  He’d waltzed into this sort of situation half a hundred times, all sharp edges and nasty giggles, demanding what he wanted, playing with people, and then leaving on his own terms.  He’d been a force of nature, then, feared by all…and no matter how much he told himself that he enjoyed the games, after the first hundred years or so, the dance had lost its luster.  Oh, there had been moments he appreciated, but often the smiles had all been part of the act. 

No longer.  This was different, and although Rumplestiltskin wasn’t entirely comfortable with the role the war had forced him into—or at least temporarily assigned him—he didn’t have to go back to what he’d _been_ , either.  For the first time in centuries, he had a genuine choice.  _And that’s why I’m here._   Still smiling, he turned his mind back to the confused group of soldiers. 

“I understand you have an ogre problem.  Or had one, to be more accurate.” 

 “That was _your_ doing?”  Charming’s jaw dropped, but Rumplestiltskin’s attention was drawn by a second voice.  He’d known Baelfire was with Charming’s army, but hadn’t seen his son in the crowd; he’d been the one still looking out the narrow window, with his back to the others.  But now Baelfire had turned, his face white and whisper tentative: 

“Papa?” 

“Hello, Bae.”  It was a woefully inadequate response, but was apparently enough, because his son crossed the room in three long strides and hugged him tight.  Rumplestiltskin returned the embrace , letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. 

He’d been so certain that he’d never see his son again, so certain that his sacrifice _would_ be worth it because his death would give Bae a chance at a happy life, the kind of life he’d never truly be able to have with the Dark One as his father.  The kind of life he’d taken from his son all those years ago when he’d stolen the dagger, making a deal that he hadn’t understood the price of.  Knowing that Bae and Belle would live had given him the strength to kill Pan, to kill himself, and this was a moment he had never even dared imagine.  Even knowing his son was alive during the last five days—had it really been so few?—had made their reunion hard to visualize.  He hadn’t exactly thought that Bae would be angry, but there was no way to know for sure. 

“I thought you were dead,” Baelfire said, his voice choked and muffled against Rumplestiltskin’s shoulder.  

He chuckled softly, ignoring the lump in his own throat.  “Apparently, I’m not very good at killing myself.” 

Belle would have yelled at him for making a joke about it, but Rumplestiltskin could feel Bae smile, and a quiet laugh escaped his son before Bae pulled back to look at him.  “But how…?” 

“Pan’s dead,” he reassured his son, and then explained: “But there’s a very old magic tied to self-sacrifice.  That magic can save you, but not if you expect it to.  And only if you do it for the right reasons.” 

“You really didn’t think it would.” 

“Of course not.  There was far too much darkness in me for something like that to work,” Rumplestiltskin answered honestly, watching his son’s face carefully.  Baelfire had always been a bright boy, and although everyone else in the room was still stuck on the _Rumplestiltskin-killed-the-ogres_ part of the conversation, Bae did not disappoint. 

“You said ‘was’,” his son said almost immediately.  “And you look—” 

“Indeed I do.”  Now he could smile, a real smile, one that reminded him of being a father three centuries ago, before darkness had so ruined his soul.  “I seem to have broken my curse in the process.” 

“Oh.”  Bae’s face split into a grin, and suddenly, he laughed.  “Well if that’s all it took, why didn’t you come up with that solution earlier? It would have saved us both an awful lot of heartache.” 

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  _Well, he is_ my _son._   And Rumplestiltskin’s somewhat crooked sense of humor had not been something he’d inherited along with the Dark One’s curse, either.  “The next time I pick up some ancient life-altering curse, I’ll be sure to have you remind me of that,” he retorted dryly, but couldn’t keep the slight smile off his own face. 

“Damn straight.”  Then Bae’s voice turned soft.  “It’s good to have you back, Papa.” 

“It’s good to be back.” 

Rumplestiltskin really wished he could have these reunions in private, because the next question was one he had expected but had not yet figured out how to completely avoid.  Fortunately, his son was more circumspect than Regina had been, though in retrospect, he supposed it really didn’t matter who knew that he’d not had magic before the curse.  Obviously he still _did_ , much though he couldn’t explain where it came from.  He really did want to avoid that round of questions from anyone other than Bae, though.  If he didn’t tell Bae, Belle would, and he’d rather not earn both of their ire over his habit of keeping secrets from them, so Rumplestiltskin would just tell his son the truth.  But not in front o everyone else. 

“You…killed the ogres?” Bae approached the topic of his magic obliquely. 

“That I did.”  Squeezing his son’s shoulder, Rumplestiltskin added softly: “More on that later.” 

Bae nodded.  His eyes were full of curiosity, but he would wait.  So Rumplestiltskin turned to face Charming and the others, flipping his right hand up in a swirly motion so very reminiscent of his own past.  _Hm.  Apparently the flamboyant mannerisms became_ mine _as much as the imp’s._  

“However, that may not be the end of your problem.” 

“What do you mean?” Charming asked immediately. 

“I mean that although these ogres are dead—and burned, so that their bodies can’t be reanimated and sent after you again—they weren’t acting normally.  Did you notice that they seemed…smarter than usual?” 

Interestingly enough, Charming exchanged a look with Rumplestiltskin’s son.  The prince grimaced.  “Yeah…” 

“I told you so,” Bae put in mildly, and the knowing twitch of his eyebrows made Rumplestiltskin swallow back a snort of amusement.  

“Then it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that those ogres were being controlled by someone.  Or something,” he explained.  “The first thing I tried was to turn them away with magic.  It’s the simplest way to be rid of ogres; you convince them to go home.  Ogres aren’t very bright creatures, for all their strength and capacity for violence, and if you can make them believe that the territory they have is as good as the territory they wish to gain, they’ll leave.  But these didn’t.  Even when faced with fire.” 

“So, the Witch is controlling them.  That makes sense.”  Charming shrugged.  “But it doesn’t change much.” 

“You’re not listening.” 

More than a few of Charming’s people jerked up short when Rumplestiltskin called him out like that, but at least Bae wasn’t one of them.  And to give Charming credit, the prince only smiled, not offended in the slightest.  “Okay.  So what aren’t I seeing?” 

“Ogres fear fire more than just about anything,” Bae answered, and Rumplestiltskin swallowed back another smile, unspeakably proud of his son.  “The Witch can’t make them run through it as if it weren’t there, can she?” 

“She could, but your reasoning is sound.  She’d have to be _here_ to do so.  The amount of magic it takes to force ogres to act against their natures is profound.  Zelena could manage it, but not from a distance.  No, I suspect she’s using something else.” 

“Some sort of talisman?” Charming was starting to get it. 

“Some sort, yes.” 

“Are you going to tell us what that is, or do I have to make some sort of deal with you?” Charming asked next, and Rumplestiltskin laughed. 

“I think we’re a bit beyond that point, don’t you?” he asked lightly, mostly just to watch the befuddled expression cross the prince’s face.  Oh, he still wasn’t the type to do magic for free—after all, he’d never been lying about the _cost_ of magic; one of the most fundamental rules of magic was that every spell ever cast had an associated reaction of sorts, but that price was something he’d learned to manage expertly over the years.  But information Rumplestiltskin could volunteer for without charge, and needed to, particularly since they were fighting a war for control of their very world. 

Charming shot him a dubious look.  “Are we?” 

“I don’t know what the Witch is using,” Rumplestiltskin chose to answer the important question rather than address Charming’s doubts.  “Though I do have my suspicions.  If I had to guess, I’d say she’s using the Janus Stone.” 

“The what?” Bae asked. 

“Legend calls it the Heart of the Ogre King, because it’s most often been used to control ogres.  But it can do much more, and if the Witch does have the Janus Stone, we could very well be in trouble.”  Much though it went against his baser nature, Rumplestiltskin intentionally included himself in his assessment of who the Witch could cause trouble for…because whether or not he liked it, this _was_ his fight. 

Later, he would realize that it had never once occurred to him that he might make a deal with the Witch for the safety of those he cared about, and part of Rumplestiltskin would wonder why. 

“So how do we find this heart?” Charming asked. 

Correcting the prince wasn’t worth the effort, so Rumplestiltskin just drew a vial out of an inner pocket of his coat, channeling magic into it as he did so.  The new power leapt to do his bidding far more quickly than the old darkness had, and by the time he spoke, the potion was ready, complicated though it was.  “I can help with that.  Do you have a map?” 

One of the other soldiers handed a rolled up map to Bae immediately, who tossed it onto the only low table in the ramshackle room.  Rumplestiltskin leaned over to study the map briefly as his son asked: “Will this work?” 

“Well enough.”  Thankfully, it was a small scale map, featuring most of the Enchanted Forest as if from a great distance.  A larger scale map would have been serviceable as well, but would have made the magic a little more complex.  Given that the four different spells Rumplestiltskin had in mind—separate from the one he’d already put in the vial; that was just for the map, not for the locating part of this equation—were already quite convoluted enough, he was happy to use a map that removed one possible variable. 

Weaving the strands together in his mind—faster than he would have thought possible a year earlier—Rumplestiltskin lifted the vial over the map, swirling it slightly to make sure that the potion came together just so.  Slowly, moving from the left side of the map to the right (or to west, which was important for this magic), he poured the liquid out drop by drop.  However, the potion never made it to the parchment.  Instead, the liquid hovered in midair over the map, forming a bumpy line of murky blue droplets about an inch off of the parchment.  He repeated the same motion moving from up to down, or north to south, until a cross of water droplets formed just over the center of the map. 

A flick of his wrist banished the vial back to his pocket, and Rumplestiltskin swept his right hand, palm down, slowly over the parchment, again from east to west.  The droplets disappeared as his hand moved, forming a very thin sheen that continued to over hover the map, translucent blue and glowing ever so slightly.  He studied it for a moment, and then flicked his fingers downwards so that the potion settled onto the map.  It hit with a sizzle, and blue smoke immediately rose off the parchment, completely obscuring the map’s features.  That bit of magic done, Rumplestiltskin’s left hand came up to join his right, bringing with it two spells he had finished weaving.  Letting out a breath, he turned that hand palm down to the map as well. 

Magic tingled in all ten fingers as he completed the final two spells.  Slowly, he spread his hands apart, still holding them over the parchment.  Power tingled up his spine, the spells arched invisibly out of his palms—and then it was done.  The blue fog sank into the map, absorbed by the parchment itself and the spells he’d cast, and the features on the map reappeared in sharper and greater detail than before, colored as vividly and realistically as a photograph. 

Bae and Charming both stepped up next to him as small pockets of color started to glow on the map, ranging from pale yellow to a brighter red.  

“What are those?” Charming asked quietly, gesturing at one of the thrumming red dots. 

“Magic,” he replied.  “The darker it shows on the map, the more powerful the source.  Yellow you can ignore.  Orange as well.  Anything red you will have to investigate.  The Janus Stone is one of the oldest magical items in existence and is extremely powerful.  It should show up as dark red, but it could be shielded somewhat.” 

“How do we tell where everything is?  It’s kind of hard to tell from a distance,” Charming pointed out. 

“Just tap the map and it will give you a closer view.”  Rumplestiltskin did so, tapping a random place to demonstrate.  “Then tap a corner and it will return to normal.” 

“Damn.  That’s pretty cool,” Bae remarked.  “Just like Google maps.” 

Charming made an amused noise of agreement as Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, saying dryly: “Thanks, Bae.” 

“No problem, Pop,” was his son’s cheeky response. 

Meanwhile, the prince-turned-general tested his own control of the map out, tapping the area near the fort they were still sheltered in.  As he did so, a dark red dot grew larger.  Charming glanced over at Rumplestiltskin. 

“You said this displays all sorts of magic?  Does that mean objects or people?  Or both?” 

“And people always try to say that your wife is the brains in your relationship,” Rumplestiltskin couldn’t resist teasing him, and Charming grinned back.  “It shows both.” 

Truth be told, if he’d dared key the map to only show magical objects, he would have.  Tracking magical _users_ or magical beings was much more difficult, but the Janus Stone was so old that it might well have acquired a personality of its own after all these years.  So, Rumplestiltskin had no choice but to use the spells that would show people as well as objects, even if he didn’t like the idea very much.  At least the fourth spell had been a duplication spell; an identical map was now sitting in his workroom back at the Dark Castle.  If he was going to work this kind of magic and leave it in others’ hands, Rumplestiltskin was going to do the same for himself at the very least. 

But there was really no immediate need.  He’d already spotted the two bright red dots—one glowing more powerfully than the other—centered on the Forbidden Fortress, along with the one flickering orange dot headed away from the Dark Castle and in that direction.  That sight told him he’d been right about where Regina was, and that Emma had already disregarded his advice to stay out of Regina and Maleficent’s spat.  No, the Charmings’ daughter had to go play Savior again, even when she really should stay out of it.  And of course she was still trying to ignore her own magic.  Would she ever learn?  Just thinking about Emma Swan was enough to give Rumplestiltskin a headache.  Unfortunately, the girl’s father was just as perceptive as she was. 

“So, either there’s a really powerful object nearby, or that dark red dot is you,” Charming said bluntly. 

He smiled thinly.  “Well, it’s not the Janus Stone, dearie.” 

Bae shot him an interesting look, but Rumplestiltskin refused to say more. 

 

****************

 

Snow wasn’t surprised when the Blue Fairy came to visit, even if she did show up unannounced.  The Blue Fairy didn’t much like the Dark Castle, of course—when they’d taken up residence there, Blue had said that it stank of evil and was almost poisonous to one such as her—so Snow was grateful that Blue would brave the discomfort.  They settled into comfortable chairs in Snow’s chambers after Blue came through the window, with the fairy having put her wings away and assumed her larger form. 

“I am glad to hear that the war is going better,” Blue said after they’d exchanged pleasantries.  “But I am…concerned to hear that Rumplestiltskin has returned.” 

“I agree that it’s…unexpected,” Snow said slowly.  She’d always known that Blue and Rumplestiltskin did not get along—how could they, when he was the Dark One?—but Regina’s had confirmed that Rumplestiltskin’s curse had been broken, and he did seem to be trying.  Even back in Storybrooke, he’d often been more willing to help than the fairies had been able to, and Snow felt they had to give him a chance.  “But with his curse broken…” 

She trailed off, only to watch Blue grimace.  “I would not count on that mattering, child.” 

“Why not?” Snow blinked. 

“Rumplestiltskin has been a creature of darkness for centuries.  One good act— _if_ it was not a trick to shield something darker—cannot erase that,” the most powerful of all fairies pointed out gravely.  “Whatever kind of man he was before becoming the Dark One has been forever changed by that curse.  He may help you, but he will only do it on his terms.  And he cannot be trusted.” 

“I’m not sure we have a choice,” Snow replied.  “We need all the help we can get.  Besides, he does really seem to be trying to be better for Belle.  And for Baelfire.” 

Blue shook her head.  “Do not trust that.  Darkness leaves a stain, Snow.  Even if he wants to change, he may not have a choice.  No one does.  Not after embracing evil for so long.” 

“Regina’s been fighting on our side for the last year, and you said _she_ couldn’t change.”  Snow wasn’t sure why Blue’s motherly tone was getting on her nerves, but Blue _had_ said something rather like this about Regina, not long after they’d returned to the Enchanted Forest.  And she’d said the same back in Storybrooke, back when Regina had initially started trying to be better.  Blue had been wrong about Regina; Snow was certain of that, now.  Was she also wrong about Rumplestiltskin? 

Rumplestiltskin had never been so obvious or honest about his desire to be better—Regina had flat out said it, whereas Rumplestiltskin had simply looked at the message David had sent and said he’d take care of the problem.  Of course, that was right on the heels of his argument with Emma about Regina being able to save herself, which had mostly consisted of Emma shouting and Rumplestiltskin calling her a fool, but that was certainly no different than anything they’d experienced before.  When Snow thought about it, even back before the Curse, Rumplestiltskin had helped her and Charming more times that he hadn’t.  He’d actually helped them more times than Blue had…and that really was an interesting thought. 

“It appears I was wrong about Regina.  I hope I was, child,” Blue said softly, sadly. 

“Tink thinks you were.”  And somehow, Tink’s opinion had started to matter to Snow a lot more than Blue’s had.  Maybe that was because Tink was fighting by her side and Blue had been gone, doing whatever she was doing. 

“Tinker Bell learned a great deal during her time in Neverland,” the senior fairy replied easily.  “I am glad you trust her.” 

“So am I.” 

Blue sighed again.  “No one is perfect, Snow, even me.  And I know that you wish I were more open with you about what the fairies have been preparing.  All I can promise you is that we _are_ on the right side.  We will do everything in our power to keep darkness from conquering the Enchanted Forest.” 

“I know you will.”  Suddenly, Snow felt horribly guilty for doubting Blue at all.  “It’s just… It’s just been hard.  That’s all.” 

“And you are with child, which does not make things easier.”  Blue smiled and took Snow’s hand.  “Not to worry.  He’ll be born soon, and safely.” 

“He?” Snow squeaked. 

“He.”  Another squeeze of her hand, and then without warning Blue was small again, flying above the chair she’d been seated in only moments before.  “Good luck to you, Your Majesty.  We will be watching you.” 

With that farewell, the Blue Fairy flew out the window of the Dark Castle, leaving Snow to place a hand on her stomach.  She hadn’t wanted to ask Tink if she was carrying a boy or a girl, and her own instincts had been less than helpful on that front.  Snow hadn’t really cared, so long as her child was born healthy, but she knew that David really did want a boy this time.  _Come home soon, David,_ she thought with a smile.  _Your son wants to meet you.  Soon._  

 

****************

 

“You know, I take back everything I ever said as a kid about wanting to fight ogres.  They suck.” 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly.  “They aren’t much more fun to deal with using magic, either.” 

“I’m gathering that, yeah,” Bae replied with a wry smile.  They’d stepped outside while Charming started sending messengers to the other army outposts.  It didn’t give father and son much of a chance to talk as they would have liked, but at least they were away from prying eyes and curious eavesdroppers. 

As they walked, Rumplestiltskin flicked his fingers, throwing magic out along their path and searching for threats—not just for ogres.  If his suspicions were correct and the Witch _did_ have the Janus Stone, at some point she’d discover that she could control other fell beasts and prove even more dangerous.  For the moment, however, the immediate area seemed clear.  Perhaps more importantly, if the Stone had been nearby, Rumplestiltskin was certain that he would have felt it.  He was still growing accustomed to the depth of this new power; the feedback it provided threatened to overwhelm his senses at times.  Eventually, Rumplestiltskin thought he might not need the kind of map he’d just given Charming.  If he could wrap his thoughts around the power properly, the possibility existed that he could track magic and its users inside his own head.  _If._ The most interesting thing about this new power as that it was trapped inside a fragile human body.  He’d not really been human as the Dark One, and hadn’t had the associated weaknesses of humanity, either.  Now, however, Rumplestiltskin was human again, and it made the power…different. 

“So.”  Bae stepped over a burned out tree and then stopped.  Rumplestiltskin followed suit, trying not to tense as he guessed what questions were coming.  “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?  If your curse is broken…” 

“I shouldn’t have magic, I know.” 

He let out a breath, staring briefly into the distance before turning to meet his son’s gaze.  Baelfire’s brown eyes, identical to his own, watched him quizzically, and not accusingly as he’d feared.  Rumplestiltskin had been terrified that his son would want him to be free of magic once and for all now that the curse was broken, that Bae’s childhood desire for Rumplestiltskin to go back to the way he had been would win out.  But Bae seemed curious rather than angry. 

“I didn’t expect to,” Rumplestiltskin explained after a moment.  “I pointed out to Regina that I did study magic for three hundred years, and that therefore I obviously should still be able to use magic.  I’m not certain she believed me.  Either way, it’s not the truth.” 

 “What is?” his son asked quietly. 

“I don’t know where this power comes from,” he answered quietly.  “It’s unlike anything I have experienced before.  Under the curse, I had access to an almost bottomless well of darkness.  This…this is an ocean of power.  I’ve yet to find its limits.  It’s almost like the power was somehow masked by the Dark One’s curse, narrowed down into only darkness, and then was left behind when the curse broke.” 

“Is it the same power?” 

Rumplestiltskin shook his head.  “Yes.   No.  Some of it is.  Much of it isn’t.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Bae replied after a moment, making his father laugh. 

“You’re telling me?  I assumed that living meant I would no longer be able to use magic.  I spent a year being tortured by the fae thinking that, only to find out that I was so very wrong.  I am no stranger to power, Bae, but this—this can be terrifying.  Even to me.” 

“Wait a minute—you _what_?  Belle didn’t say anything about—” 

He cut Bae off with a wave of his hand.  “It doesn’t matter now.”  He was determined that it wouldn’t, anyway, and if Rumplestiltskin told himself that enough times, it would have to be true.  Nevermind his own nightmares.  Belle helped with those. 

“Papa, I—” Baelfire looked horrified.  And guilty.  _Guilty?_  

“You didn’t know,” he interrupted quickly, aghast at the idea that his son would feel guilty for not saving him.  “You had no wayof knowing, Bae.  No one did.  I don’t blame _anyone_ for what happened, aside from those responsible.” 

Baelfire’s voice was very gruff when he asked: “You said the fae. I thought they were just legends.” 

“Not so much as one might hope.” 

The words came out a little sing-songy, a little harsher than Rumplestiltskin intended.  But he supposed that he only had himself to blame; speaking of it made the memories rise, made him think of a whisper in his ear, dark and _evil_ magic, and a hand on the back of his neck.  His hands shook slightly before he could clench them into fists, and he could feel the skin on his face grow tight as he grimaced.  Looking away from his son until he could regulate his emotions, Rumplestiltskin sucked in a deep breath.  He would _not_ let that year rule his life, not when there were three hundred-plus other ones that had been at least more under his control, if not outright better than the one that just passed.  He was alive.  He had a second chance with his family.  That made the pain more than worth it. 

 _All magic comes with a price_.  He suspected that there was more than one to his, to this sweeping power he had somehow gained, and that the year he’d suffered for was a part of what he’d have to pay.  No matter.  He’d pay that a thousand times to see Bae and Belle again. 

Bae’s whisper broke through his thoughts.  “You okay, Papa?” 

“That’s a complicated question, son,” Rumplestiltskin answered, forcing himself to shrug, still staring into the trees.  He wasn’t, of course—Belle had finally pounded it into his head that he _shouldn’t_ be all right—but he needed to be.  _Rumplestiltskin_ had become as much a legend as the fae, even to his own allies.  Strange though it was to use that term to apply to anyone, he was in this war up to his neck, and that meant he had a part to play.  And yet…that thought came as an odd comfort.  He’d been a loner for so long that he hardly knew how to be anything else, but something in him wanted to learn how. 

“Are you going to answer it?” Bae asked. 

 _Not unless I have to._ His smile turned crooked.  “Let’s just say that I’ve had to do a lot of soul-searching recently, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that I still have one.  A soul, I mean.” 

“Papa, don’t.” 

“I know what I was, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin forced himself to say honestly.  Baelfire deserved to hear this from him in a way that no one else did, even Belle.  “What I’m not sure about is what I am now.  But I will try to be better, for your sake, and for Belle’s.  That’s all I can promise.” 

“I can’t ask for more than that,” his son replied immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder again.  Rumplestiltskin turned to look at him, a little hesitantly, and Bae smiled.  “I was wrong, too.  And I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance in the beginning.  I was too used to running.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Bae.  Nothing at all.  You had every reason to run.  I wasn’t exactly…myself when I let you go.” 

And who was he now?  Now Rumplestiltskin was certainly closer to that simple spinner than he’d been in over three centuries, but time had changed him as much as it had his son.  A great evil no longer ruled his soul, yet he wasn’t who he’d been, either.  Whoever he was, he hoped it would be enough for Baelfire.  His son deserved so much _better_ than what Rumplestiltskin had given him before. 

“Well, now we’ve got a second chance, right?” Bae asked, his crooked smile matching Rumplestiltskin’s.  “And hell, we’re even at home for it.” 

“I guess we do.” 

Suddenly, Bae’s face split in to a grin.  “Does this mean I have to give the castle back?” 

Rumplestiltskin could only laugh.

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented so far! Hearing from readers always makes me smile. Questions for this chapter: Do you think that Blue is right about Rumplestiltskin? Is he irrevocably stained by darkness, or will he be able to be who he wants to be? 
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 11: “Counting the Cost”, in which Emma and Company head towards the Forbidden Fortress, the Fae get out and about, and Snow and Rumplestiltskin have a little heart to heart. In the meantime, please let me know what you think about this chapter!


	12. Counting the Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina and Maleficent have a little "chat", Emma sets out to rescue Regina, and Snow and Rumplestiltskin finally have a much needed heart to heart.

**_Chapter Eleven—“Counting the Cost”_ **

 

The journey to the Forbidden Fortress took longer than Emma would have expected.  In hindsight, Emma supposed that she was just a product of the Land Without Magic; she was used to having a _car_ to take her places, or better yet, an _airplane_ if the trip was long enough.  But the Enchanted Forest apparently hadn’t ever heard of modern conveniences like that, which meant she was stuck riding a damn _horse_.  Of course, she’d been made intellectually aware of these sorry facts during her previous visit, but then she and Mary Margaret had been concentrating on getting home to Storybrooke.  Now this was going to be her life, and Emma found herself thrown more than a little off balance. 

Hook didn’t help, not with his constant attempts to help her, charm her, or outright infuriate her.  Nor did the fact that he seemed to be locked in a constant battle with _Robin Hood_ provide anything other than a ridiculous amount of amusement.  Hook was determined that Emma should lead their little expedition, but Robin apparently took umbrage at that.  The outlaw had pointed out that of their number _he_ was the only one who’d ever actually been to the Forbidden Fortress before, and that made him more qualified.  Fortunately, Robin was apparently smart enough not to make any remarks that smacked of Emma being unqualified due to her sex.  She’d have knocked him on his ass if he’d done that, tough though the guy might have looked. 

Having two sets of memories battling for prominence in her mind didn’t exactlyl make things easier, either.  One moment, she felt like the Emma who had lived in New York, who had given birth to Henry in jail but _kept_ him, struggling to make a living for both of them once she got out but having no regrets.  The next she was the Emma who Henry had hunted down in Boston, a woman who struggled with regrets and refused to believe in anything she couldn’t touch with her own two hands.  Unfortunately, it was _that_ Emma who had finally come to believe in the curse, in magic, and in her own family—the more content Emma of New York had thrown all of her love into Henry and had been determined to forget that her family had abandoned her.  

 _Except they hadn’t.  They were here the whole time, and they’ve_ always _wanted me._   The thought made pain well up, but Emma pushed it aside, instead focusing on the various aches and pains that riding the stupid horse for so long caused.  Thankfully, they’d left the beasts at an inn that morning and struck out on foot, and if Emma never had to ride another horse again, it would be too soon.  _I hurt in places I didn’t know had muscles to hurt.  Urgh._   What she wouldn’t give for a few aspirin right now, but apparently modern conveniences like that didn’t exist in the Enchanted Forest. 

She still hadn’t figured out why everyone had been in such a hurry to get back here.  

“And,” Robin reiterated for the umpteenth time, gesturing angrily at the barely visible path ahead of them.  They were on day fifteen of their journey, and Hook and Robin were arguing _again_.   “I’ve actually broken into the place before.  I think that means I know what we should be doing.” 

God, Emma thought they’d finished this argument fourteen days ago.  Why in the world had the boys started fighting again? 

“Oh, your skills as a thief certainly qualify you to _lead_ people,” Hook retorted.  His face was a little redder than it should have been, Emma thought distantly.  Why _was_ Hook so unreasonably angry about this?  He only seemed determined to be difficult. 

“Well, they’re clearly eclipsed by your piratical talents.” 

Emma snorted, and Hook gave her a dirty look.  “What?  He’s got a point.  And besides, we’re a grand expedition of _three_ ,” she pointed out.  Again.  Was she the only one who felt like they’d had this entire conversation before?  “Why do we need a leader at all?  Can’t we just work together?” 

Hook rolled his eyes, and Robin bristled.  “ _I’m_ not the one who keeps trying to dictate the terms of this rescue mission,” the outlaw drawled.  “If I’d had my way, neither of you would even be along.  The Merry Men and I could have handled this fine without you.” 

Why oh why had she not listened to Gold when he’d told her that she’d regret trying to rescue Regina?  

“Well, you’re stuck with us,” Emma cut in before Hook could say something that would set off another argument.  Or make the current one worse.  Or something.  “So why don’t all three of us just make the best of it and _work together_?” 

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t, love,” Hook replied immediately, during those dark bedroom eyes of his on her.  Emma bit back a groan.  The man was gorgeous and utterly kissable, but did he ever turn it _off_? 

“Stop it,” she snapped.  

Now Hook was all innocence. “Stop what?  I’m not—” 

“Stop breathing,” Emma snapped, tested beyond patience.  “No.  I don’t mean that.  Just… _stop_.”  Why was her chest so tight?  Breathing seemed a little…harder at the moment.  Grimacing, she turned another glare on Robin and asked him the question she’d meant to pose days ago.  “Why are you so intent on rescuing Regina, anyway?” 

“Whatever do you mean?” Robin blinked. 

“It’s a simple question.” 

“Oh.”  Hook spoke up, looking a little guilty for once.  Along with terribly amused.  “I may have neglected to mention that our friendly outlaw here is romancing the Evil Queen.” 

That took a moment to sink in.  At first Emma was certain that she’d heard wrong, and then once she turned the words over in her head, she just couldn’t believe them.  Then she finally managed to demand:  “You’re _what_?  Aren’t you supposed to be with Maid Marian or something?” 

Robin grimaced, old pain crossing his handsome features and making him look much older all of a sudden.  Of course Emma should have remembered that fairy tales weren’t simple in the Enchanted Forest.  Now she felt horrible, because she’d obviously touched on a sore subject.  What kind of idiot was she?  The outlaw swallowed hard before answering. 

“Marian was my late wife and the mother of my son.  She’s been dead for three years.” 

“I’m sorry,” Emma said softly, feeling like utter trash.  _Stupid.  Stupid, stupid, stupid_ , she told herself acidly, and then tried out a lopsided smile.  “So, um, you and Regina, huh?” 

“Yes.”  Robin smiled faintly.  “Roland adores her, and well, I’ve always been fond of…fiery women.” 

Emma wasn’t quite sure how to respond other than: “Well, Regina certainly is that.” 

“That she is,” Robin chuckled.  

“Oh, that’s more information than I needed, mate,” Hook replied, and the rest of their evening passed in more companionable silence.

 

****************

 

“So,” Belle said quietly, her hands moving slowly through his hair.  Rumplestiltskin’s eyes were half shut as he lay on his back with his head in her lap, drowsing more than sleeping, but her next words still wormed their way through his haze of relaxed happiness.  “You’ve been back for almost three weeks.   Are you any closer to figuring out the origins of this magic?” 

Rumplestiltskin sighed.  He’d been busy since deciding to return to the world, first utterly revamping the defenses on the Dark Castle (after tearing down Regina’s work, which took some doing without her around to help) and then dealing with a hundred other minor magical problems.  Five different towns or villages had reported mysterious figures lurking in the shadows, whose arrival was followed by wild and beautiful community dances that _everyone_ seemed desperate to take part in.   Entire towns found themselves dancing, abandoning market days, farm plots, and even their own children.  _And none of them were able to stop_.  Town magistrates called for help before they, too, were sucked into the vortex of dancers, and no amount of begging, pleading, or reasoning could pry them loose. 

It was a conundrum right out of the old days, when the fae frolicked freely, twisting up humans within their own sick games.  Perhaps the problem would not have been so great if the Grand Alliance (as the royals insisted they call themselves) had not freed so few towns.  Of the eleven “free” towns in the Enchanted Forest (not counting Francis’ kingdom), five had been infected within as many days, and reports of the problems did not reach the Dark Castle until the evening of the second day.  A dozen people died in Weselton before Tinker Bell called in Rumplestiltskin.  Try though she had, the fairy proved unable to break the enchantment on her own, though the former Dark One had no such problems. 

Freeing those five towns had taken far less effort than he anticipated, particularly given the fact that a powerful fairy had been hard put to unravel the multiple layers of fae magic surrounding the dancers.  The first two times he’d done it, Rumplestiltskin had been concerned by the apparent ease and the cost of such magic, but no matter how hard he looked, he could not detect the magical reaction he was accustomed to managing.  Nor could he find some sort of catch in the next three towns, only a pressing _need_ to release the magic and demand nothing for it.  Acting in such a manner left him acutely uncomfortable, not to mention short tempered. 

“No,” he half-growled.  Confusing wisps of memory made him wonder, but there was nothing _concrete._   Rumplestiltskin hated not knowing things, particularly about magic, which led him to trying more and more with his new power—only to find that there truly did seem to be no bottom.  There were times that using his magic felt like jumping off a cliff into water of undeterminable depth and hoping he’d float before he hit the bottom. 

“Can I help?” Belle asked. 

Opening his eyes to look at her, Rumplestiltskin studied her worried face.  Belle was concerned because he was concerned, he knew.  Left to her own devices, Belle just wanted to be happy that he was back, but Rumplestiltskin kept looking for the catch.  The price.  He didn’t want to admit that he already knew what the latter was. 

“Perhaps...” trailing off, he bit his lip.  Rumplestiltskin had been trying to research this power, trying to look into what it could be, but every time he settled down in front of a book, something else came up.  With Regina gone—and the fools off to find her—he and Tinker Bell were the only magic users left to the Grand Alliance.  Under normal circumstances, Rumplestiltskin would have happily left the fairy to deal with their magical problems, but many of these problems were too much for her. 

And he _was_ trying to be better.  It was easier without so much darkness inside him to reckon with, even if he had to battle three centuries’ worth of behavior to do so.  Helping didn’t come easily to him, and his nasty habits had already caused one spat between himself and Snow White.  Had Henry not wandered in, he probably would have said something regrettable, or kicked the entire alliance out of his castle and told them that they could deal for his help like anyone else, thank you very much.  Thankfully, their mutual grandson had given both of them a bit of a lecture on working together, and Rumplestiltskin had been able to storm out, pride mostly intact. 

Belle smiled, and he was immediately glad that he’d overcome his own desire to do everything for himself.  “What can I do?” 

“Research,” he admitted with a scowl.  “This power— _my_ power—is old.  Older than the curse of the Dark One, I think.  And it’s not…normal.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Rumplestiltskin sat up, finding her hands running through his hair too much of a distraction to think critically.  They were both on his—their—bed, curled and watching the sun set over the mountains and treasuring the few hours of privacy.  Belle had spent most of that day wrangling with representatives of King Francis and King Midas, both of whom were demanding more soldiers to either secure their lands or win them back, while Snow White met with ambassadors from Agrabah.  He was terribly proud of Belle’s central role in the Grand Alliance, even if it did keep them apart more than Rumplestiltskin would like.  Besides, Rumplestiltskin had spent every moment of the past two days up until an hour ago trying to sort out rumors of some “Forgotten Kingdom” that was supposedly created years before the curse.  All he’d found had been a broken-down sorcerer inside a ruined castle, but given that the tales claimed that ‘the Dark One’ was in service of the Forgotten King, Rumplestiltskin had taken the rumors rather more seriously than most. 

Snow White had been looking at him suspiciously since those rumors had first made it to the Dark Castle a week earlier, too, which meant Rumplestiltskin had been delighted to get away from the castle for a few days, even if it had meant separation from Belle.  Next time he intended to take her along and steal some time together, even if that would make the dear Queen more certain that he was somehow playing both ends against the middle.  _Not that I’ve never done that before._   Still, that was a problem for another day. 

“There are three ‘families’ of magic, so to speak,” Rumplestiltskin explained after a moment.  “Fairy, Elemental, and Human.  There are offshoots of each—like the difference between Fae magic and Fairy magic—but those are the basic categories.  What we commonly consider ‘magic’ is really human magic.  Most people just don’t appreciate that there is a difference.” 

Belle nodded.  “I remember reading something about how all human magic originally came from three sources.  And elemental magic is just demons and spirits, right?” 

“More or less.  Before, under the curse, my magic was a unique cross between human and elemental magic.  Why I don’t know, but that’s not relevant at the moment.  Now, it’s almost entirely human, with a sprinkle of something else I can’t identify.  But instead of that meaning less power, it means more.  It makes no sense.” 

“You want me to see if I can find something in a book.” 

Rumplestiltskin smiled sheepishly.  “I don’t have your love of research, sweetheart.”  _Nor the time, not with the number of problems I find myself solving._  

“Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.”  But Belle smiled beautifully. 

“Will it not?”  His grin turned wicked as Rumplestiltskin resolved to leave those problems for another day.  “Shall I bribe you, then?” 

She turned her nose up at him playfully.  “I thought you were above such things.” 

“Ha.  No one is going to confuse _me_ with a good sorcerer any time soon.  I’m simply selfish,” he retorted, dropping a kiss on her neck. 

“Selfish?” Belle inquired, but she was already starting to sound distracted as he worked his way downwards.  

“Of course.  I can’t very well go haring off on my own while you and Bae join the Grand Alliance.  I’d have to drag you along with me, and then you’d _complain_ , and then where would I be?” 

“Where indeed,” she murmured, but whatever else he’d been planning to say was cut off by her kiss.  The kiss was soft, promising more, but power still raced through him, lighting off his senses like a bolt of lightning.  The magic of the kiss was somewhat muted—there was no need for it to break curses or banish darkness—yet True Love still lurked behind the kiss, powerful and potent.  It gave him strength in ways completely unrelated to magic.  _Belle_ gave him strength. 

If Rumplestiltskin ever regretted breaking his own curse, moments like this made him forget that.

 

****************

 

“Why do you think you’re so damn smart?” Robin demanded of Hook on the seventeenth day of their journey.  They had to be getting close to the Forbidden Fortress by now, but all Emma could see were trees, and the air was uncomfortably stuffy. 

“Probably because I am.” 

“You certainly don’t act like it,” the outlaw replied with another eye roll.  Maybe adults in the Enchanted Forest never told their children that their eyes would get stuck if they did that too often, or maybe Robin’s childhood had been as haphazard as Emma’s. 

“Oh, and you do?” Hook snarled. 

“At least I’m not making eyes at a woman who won’t have me in a million years,” Robin retorted loftily. 

“Will she not?  I’ll have you know that last night, Miss Swan and I—” 

“Hook!” Emma cut him off with a shout.  What, was he going to _brag_ about the moments they’d shared in the dark?  His leering grin made her feel like nothing more than a conquest.  She had been _lonely_ the night before, emotionally run down and needing someone in ways she hadn’t in years.  Emma had trusted Hook to hold her, and now he was making it sound like they’d done far more than kiss and cuddle. 

The pirate was damn lucky that she’d didn’t use her sword to carve that smug look right off of his face, and if it hadn’t been replaced by a more contrite expression, she might have anyway.  Emma wheeled on the two men, absolutely fed up with their arguing. 

“I have had _enough!_ ” she snarled, and then overrode both sets of objections.  “I am _not_ going to take any part in whatever pissing contest you two are determined to have.  So, whatever problems you’ve got, get the hell over them.  We’re here to rescue Regina, and if you can’t handle that, I swear to God that I’ll leave you both tied to trees and do it myself.” 

Both Hook and Robin looked slightly stunned, but finally the pirate shrugged.  “She’ll do it, mate.  She’s left me tied up or chained up…well, more than once.” 

“I really didn’t need to know about that aspect of your relationship, Captain,” Robin choked out. 

 

****************

 

“Why did you insist that rescuing Regina was a fool’s errand?” Snow asked seventeen days after the trio set off rescue Regina.  The queen strode into the Great Hall unhappily, tablet in hand, and her scowl only grew deeper when she spotted Rumplestiltskin sitting at the head of the long table.  

Belle, who had been reading in the chair to his left, suppressed a smile.  Rumplestiltskin was never going to shut up about this one; he’d been exactly right about Snow wanting to have a little chat, and had even known _when_ it was going to happen down to the hour.  Ever the showman, he’d insisted on coming down to the hall for this discussion, and now he sat casually, his long fingers forming a steeple under his chin.  Watching him out of the corner of her right eye, Belle could almost see the old sparkling skin and black claws, and she could definitely see the old Rumplestiltskin lingering in his smile. 

“Because it is, dearie,” he replied easily, and Belle resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  Yes, Rumplestiltskin was entitled to a little bit of fun, but sometimes he really was a bit much.  “Regina can take care of herself.” 

“According to Robin, he, Emma, and Hook should be at the Forbidden Fortress by nightfall,” Snow replied, resting her other hand on her very pregnant belly.  She stopped next to a chair and dropped the tablet on the table, but made no move to sit down. 

“Good for them.” Rumplestiltskin shrugged, and then twirled his right hand airily.  “So why in the world are you bringing this to me?  Is there a complaint you would like to register?” 

Snow blinked, but it was the heavy silence that followed Rumplestiltskin’s sarcastic question that finally made Belle close her book.  She glanced at Rumplestiltskin again, but his face was hard to read, politely attentive at best and devious at worst.  He must have felt her eyes on him, but he ignored Belle entirely, keeping his gaze on Snow and waiting to hear whatever it was that was bothering the queen.  Finally, Snow got straight to the point: 

“I’m not sure we can trust you,” she said, looking unhappy. 

A crooked smile crossed Rumplestiltskin’s face.  He sounded amused.  “Is that all?” 

“Rumple,” Belle admonished him softly, and his eyes finally flicked to her, still unreadable. 

“Isn’t that enough?” Snow asked. 

“Unless I’m mistaken, dearie, you’ve never trusted me.” 

“Is there a specific problem that’s bothering you?” Belle got in before Snow could respond to that.  

Snow sighed, turning to look at Belle and suddenly appearing very tired.  The two of them had become close colleagues over the last year, and maybe even friends of a sort, but Belle had never truly felt close to the young queen.  Perhaps the distance between them was a legacy of Storybrooke, where the Charmings had worked with Rumplestiltskin but never fully trusted or understood him.  Belle’s love for him had always tainted her a little in their eyes, but at least they thought she was more dependable than her ever-whimsical lover. 

“I’ve been talking to the Blue Fairy,” the queen replied after a moment’s hesitation.  “She is…doubtful.” 

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “Surprise, surprise.” 

“About what?” Belle asked, reaching out to grab his hand and stop him from saying anything else obnoxious.  She shot him a hard look when he started to tug away, and was happy to see him relent.  He trusted her, even when he someone started to get on his nerves.  

Mentions of the Blue Fairy’s meddling tended to do that, Belle knew, but she managed not to let her feelings show on her own face.  She was biased, of course.  Too long spent with Rumplestiltskin.  But that didn’t make her wrong. 

“Blue is concerned that you’re playing another game,” Snow said, looking directly at Rumplestiltskin again.  “That even… _if_ your curse is broken, you’re still, um, tainted.” 

“By darkness, you mean.  Or evil, if you prefer.”  At least he wasn’t laughing, though Belle could feel his tension through the hand she still held.  “And I suppose that you’re going to take her word over mine.” 

“She’s always helped us.” 

“Ah, yes.  She’s always told you the truth then, also.  Particularly that bit about that lovely enchanted wardrobe only having the ability to take _one_ person through to the Land Without Magic.” 

Snow’s eyes widened, and she could not have jerked back faster if Rumplestiltskin had struck her.  Belle could have heard a pin drop in the great hall, and wasn’t certain that the temperature in the room hadn’t dropped ten degrees or so.  Yet the point wasn’t something that Snow could argue against; even Belle knew that the Blue Fairy had outright _lied_ to Snow and David about that, so many years ago.  Because of her, Emma had grown up without parents, and although the Dark Curse had been broken, Belle knew Snow well enough to know that it still bothered her.  And judging from the stricken look on Snow’s face, the knowledge still hurt. 

“That’s not the point here,” the queen tried to say valiantly. 

“Then what is?” Rumplestiltskin countered, his eyes flashing.  “I’ve given you no reason not to trust me.  I would also remind you that you’re in _my_ castle at the moment, a fact that seems to escape you from time to time, but wouldn’t be the case if I were still the Dark One.  My curse _is_ broken, and much though it sometimes pains me to say it, I am on your side.” 

“Then where do your powers come from?” Snow demanded. 

“That’s my concern.” 

“You can’t expect us to trust you if you won’t trust us.” 

It was a good point, and judging from the slight smile that touched Rumplestiltskin’s face, he knew it.  He always appreciated a clever opponent, after all.  Belle watched him carefully, squeezing his hand gently and wondering what he was going to say.  Of course, he’d never admit to Snow that he still had no idea where this power came from.  Rumplestiltskin would rather appear to be evil than weak, Belle knew, and she didn’t have to like that about him to understand it.  He wasn’t well suited to playing the hero’s role, Rumplestiltskin had told her many times.  He wasn’t even terribly _inclined_ to offer help without counting the cost, even if his magic would allow him to do just that for reasons neither of them could understand.  But he was trying, for her sake and for Bae’s, because this war was important to them. 

And there was another reason, one he didn’t talk about because Belle didn’t need him to.  Rumplestiltskin still bore a deep-seated fury towards those who had hurt him for the past year, and unlike the others, he was absolutely convinced that the fae were somehow linked to the Witch.  Once, just once, he had told Belle about the powerful fae who had held him prisoner.  _“I know a manipulator when I see one,” Rumplestiltskin had told her.  “And if she’s not behind the Witch,_ I’m _Glinda the Good.”_   Belle had laughed at the comparison, but she wasn’t going to bet against Rumplestiltskin’s instincts.  Not on this. 

Now Rumplestiltskin sighed.  “Fair enough,” he said after a moment, his eyes flicking briefly to meet Belle’s.  “Let’s just say that the power was always there.  It was somewhat…restricted by my former curse, but the magic I have now is much the same that I always have had.” 

Belle managed not to grimace a little.  The answer wasn’t a lie; it was a typically carefully-worded response, truthful to the letter but only telling as much of the story as Rumplestiltskin was interested in sharing.  Of course, in this case, he didn’t know the entire story himself, but Belle still wished he could be more honest with Snow.  

Snow frowned.  “But you said your curse is broken.” 

“I did.  And it is.  Despite what your friend Reul Ghorm might tell you, ‘Your Highness,’ I am completely human.” A dark smile tugged at his lips, and Belle saw memories flashing in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes.  “If I weren’t, you’d be in trouble, because _I_ don’t have the dagger.” 

 _“What?”_  

Rumplestiltskin sat back, his body language intentionally casual, and he shrugged.  “The Fae have it, I presume.  But it was blank by the time I arrived in the Enchanted Forest, and the dagger can no longer control me, so you’re quite safe.” 

“There’s nothing that can now, is there?” No one could ever claim that Snow White was slow on the uptake, and her sharp eyes were wary. 

“Indeed there is not.”  Rumplestiltskin’s smile was lazy, but Belle could feel his burning anger at the fact that Snow seemed to think that he _required_ controlling.  So, she spoke up before he could make things worse. 

“You should be grateful for that,” Belle pointed out bluntly, making Snow blink.  

“I didn’t say—” 

“You didn’t have to.  Snow, I understand that you want to trust the Blue Fairy, but her goals are not the same as ours.  As you and David went to great pains to point out in Storybrooke, you are _family_ through Henry.  You accepted Bae and I based on that.  Why won’t you accept Rumplestiltskin?” 

Her plea worked better than any of Rumplestiltskin’s hard-edged sarcasm would have, and the pinched look on Snow’s face softened.  “I _want_ to,” the queen replied.  “Everything is just…” 

“What do your instincts tell you?” Belle asked, looking at the other woman’s torn expression.  She knew the answer already, but Snow needed to admit it for herself. 

“That you’re telling the truth.”  To Snow’s credit, she met Rumplestiltskin’s eyes squarely.  “Just please tell me that you didn’t leave Regina to rot in order to make us need you.” 

Unoffended, Rumplestiltskin laughed.  “Now why would I do that?” he asked, rolling his eyes.  “Do I really look like I enjoy running around putting out every magical fire you people can come up with?” 

Knowing how much her love _hated_ doing just that, Belle was unable to hold back her own snort of laughter.  

“I suppose not,” Snow allowed.  “I just…worry for her.  Maleficent—” 

“Dearie, the day Regina can’t handle Maleficent is the day I stop spinning straw into gold,” Rumplestiltskin cut her off.  “She’s defeated her before.  _Regina_ will be fine.”

 

****************

 

“I told you to _get in line!_ ” Regina snarled, dodging yet another fireball—and flinging one of her own in return, of course. 

“I was your _friend_!” Maleficent retorted, a wild wind of magic whipping around both of them. 

They’d been at this for days, now, maybe even a week.  It was amazing how time seemed to speed up when you were locked in a pitched magical battle.  Last time, Regina had caught Maleficent by surprise and defeated her handily, but this time she’d woken up in a carefully warded cell that took far too long to break out of.  And by the time she had, of course her old friend had been waiting, which had kicked off this glorious fight.  Under other circumstances, Regina might have been impatient and frustrated, but Maleficent really had figured out a few new tricks while she’d been locked up as a dragon in Storybrooke, which kept things interesting.  Maleficent’s excuse was that she’d had nothing to do but contemplate revenge for twenty-eight years, and well, it did make the fallen fairy creative. 

“And you would have done the same!” Regina retorted, sending a freezing ball of magic spiraling towards her opponent. 

“Not a chance!  I wouldn’t have been so stupid as to leave myself without a _single friend in the world._ ”  Maleficent let the ball of ice hit her, and shrugged it right off.  This was the first meaningful conversation they’d had, however, and responding slowed Maleficent’s next attack.  A little.  “Who did you leave yourself with, _Rumplestiltskin_?  How brilliant!  He double crosses people for _fun!_ ” 

Despite herself, Regina flinched.  “I didn’t _want_ friends!” 

“No, you wanted to depend on your old mentor, because your relationship with him has always been _ever_ so healthy.” 

Two fireballs met between them, creating a gorgeous shower of sparks.  Hot ash rained down on Regina, making her wince, hurriedly casting some magic to keep it from burning her or ruining the dress she was wearing.  She _liked_ this dress.  It wasn’t her fault that Maleficent had horrible fashion sense and liked to destroy other peoples’ clothing.  But then she found herself laughing.  Maybe Maleficent had been right.  She’d been without a friend for too long, and what were friends for if not to throw fireballs at one another with?  Regina threw another spell at the fallen fairy, but her heart wasn’t in it, and it went wide of the mark. 

“It’s worse now,” she said wryly, shaking her head.  “Now we’re _family._ ” 

“You’re _what_?”  Maleficent’s eyes went wide, and the attack she’d been brewing up dissipated.  “You’re not saying that your mother lied about—” 

“No!” The very thought made Regina feel a little sick.  She knew about her mother and Rumplestiltskin, of course, but she didn’t want to _think_ about that.  Frantically, she regained her composure.  “No, I mean Henry.  My adopted son.  It turns out that Rumplestiltskin’s son wound up in the Land Without Magic a long time ago, and he got with the Charmings’ daughter…you can picture the rest of the nauseating mess.” 

Maleficent’s staff drooped as she blinked in surprise.  “Rumplestiltskin has a son?” 

“I know.  Who would have thought?”  Regina shrugged, watching her friend’s eyes widen.  “But he’s my son’s father.” 

“There is _no way_ he didn’t do that on purpose.”

 

****************

 

Day eighteen.  

“Didn’t we walk past that tree this morning?” Emma asked, her head pounding and her chest tight. 

“No.  My compass says we’re still heading northeast,” Hook replied, studying the object in his hand. 

“Then your compass is broken, pirate,” Robin said acidly.  “Because we definitely passed that tree this morning.  And yesterday, I think.” 

“No, we passed trees _like_ that one,” Hook retorted.  “It’s a forest.  Trees look alike.  Or did you miss that in outlaw school?” 

“Which one of us is the woodsman here?” 

“Obviously not you.” 

“Look, can you two just _stop_?” Emma demanded for what felt like the hundredth time.  And maybe it was. 

Neither listened, of course.  They just continued sniping at one another and making Emma’s headache even worse.  Even when she shouted at them, all it started was a three way argument, with Robin claiming that she didn’t want Regina found, Hook calling Robin a fool whose tracking skills compared with those of a cow, and Emma torn between kissing and strangling the pirate.  At one point, she tried to do both at the same time, which made for some interesting noises.  

Robin pulled them apart, which earned him a punch from Hook.  Unfortunately, Robin had two hands and apparently knew how to use both in a fight, which ended in some rather colorful bruises on Hook’s pretty face.  That, however, earned _Robin_ a slice to the ribs from Hook’s hook.  Emma pulled _them_ apart, and patched up Robin’s wound before she could start a fight with him.  It didn’t help when he slapped her hands away, snarling that she had no idea what she was doing and she’d best keep her ignorance to herself. 

“Hold on,” Hook put in as Emma flounced—why was she _flouncing_?—away from Robin in a huff, again contemplating the handsome pirate and how lonely she was.  “Perhaps it’s just me, but are either of you feeling a bit…off?” 

“I’m angry,” Robin snapped.  “That’s not ‘off.’  That means I’m sick and tired of tramping around the forest with two fools.  This is hardly a new emotion for me.  It’s merely common sense.” 

“No, really, I think—” 

Emma was really sick of hearing this, so she cut him off with a kiss.  Hook returned it with interest until he pulled away with obvious regrets.  “Emma…not that I’m objecting to your advances, darling, but now is hardly the time.  I’m beginning to think that something is terribly wrong here.  None of us are acting quite ourselves.” 

Her chest was still unbearably tight, and kissing Hook seemed to make that feel better.  Even if it also made her think of Neal, for some obscure reason.  But her head was still pounding, and concentrating on the words Hook was saying took an enormous effort.  Why couldn’t she _think?_   Hook had a point.  This wasn’t her.  This was…well, Emma didn’t know what it was.  Grimacing, she sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear her mind.  She tried to focus her mind the way Regina had taught her, tried to clear out the extraneous thoughts and just _feel._   Doing so took several long moments, but there was something on the edge of her consciousness, something she couldn’t quite reach… 

“I think Hook’s right,” she told Robin tightly, drums clanging between her ears.  “Something’s wrong.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the wonderful folks who've left me comments. You guys really are making me feel better about my first foray into the OUAT fandom! I’m a pretty typical author in that feedback = motivation, and you all have been absolutely fantastic about helping me punch this story out. I’m hoping to finish it before March 9th, which will be a real push since we’re probably looking at 30 chapters or so for the endgame. However, I finished chapter 15 yesterday, so we’ll see if I can pull it off!
> 
> Questions for this chapter: 1) Do you think Regina and Maleficent will work out their differences? 2) What in the world do you think has happened to Emma, Hook, and Robin? And finally 3) What do you think the fae are up to behind the scenes?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 12: “Walking in Circles” in which our rescuers try to get to the Forbidden Fortress once and for all, Baelfire commands a rescue mission, and Rapunzel shows up. In the meantime, please let me know what you think!


	13. Walking in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma, Hook, and Robin continue to have problems, and Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin spend some quality father-son-finding-trouble time together.

**_Chapter Twelve—“Walking in Circles”_ **

 

“What do you think?” Bae asked his father, who shrugged diffidently. 

“You’re the one with the soldiers.  I’m just along for the ride.” 

Rolling his eyes, Bae looked at his father’s droll smile and decided that he was just being annoying on purpose.  Rumplestiltskin had returned to the Dark Castle the same night he’d disposed of the ogres nineteen days ago, but Bae had called him back when he’d discovered this interesting little enclave owned by the Witch.  The map his father had created had led them to it, and while David led one force of soldiers to investigate a possible hiding place for the Janus Stone, Bae brought a smaller group here.  The dot on the map hadn’t been as bright as some of the others, but the location—inside King Stefan’s old castle—had been interesting, so Bae had taken the cavalry to check it out. 

What he’d found had been what amounted to a prison camp, and a nasty one at that.  Some of his younger officers, particularly Prince Philip, who had just joined up with him the day before they left—wanted to storm the place immediately, but Baelfire was too experienced at _setting_ traps to go that road.  Even when Philip argued vehemently that he knew this castle—apparently it belonged to the family of his True Love, and was supposed to be deserted—Bae refused to rush in.  No, he’d rather check the place out first, and try to figure out what kind of snares were hiding in the shadows.  Because there was absolutely no way that this was anything other than a giant death trap. 

That, of course, was why he’d called his father in.  Non-magical traps Bae could unravel with the best of them, but if the Witch had set this one up to be the kind of ambush he thought it was, Bae wanted magical help.  Even had Regina been available, he wouldn’t have bothered asking for her.  Regina was the smash-and-grab sort.  His dad was much more subtle. 

“What ‘ride’?” he retorted now.  “I’ve never seen you touch a horse.” 

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “With good reason.” 

“Do you even know how to ride?” 

“Why should I bother?  I can take myself anywhere with magic far faster than a horse or coach could ever manage.”  His father gave him that look again, the one that made Bae feel about ten and like he’d asked something stupid.  But there wasn’t any malice in the look, and a smile lurked in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes. 

Bae was pretty sure that it was damn good for his dad to get out of the Dark Castle, and he knew Belle agreed.  He could only spend so long holed up in that tower of his, working magic and making everyone else uneasy.  No one really knew what to do with him yet, even with Regina missing.  He’d helped where required, but other than that stayed away from the others like they had the plague.  Rumplestiltskin probably wouldn’t like the fact that his son and Belle were conspiring behind his back, but when he found out about it—hoping he wouldn’t find out was a fool’s hope—he’d manage. 

“So, do you have to get closer to figure out what kind of magical traps the Witch has left behind, or can you tell from here?” Bae asked. 

‘Here’ was a cliff top about a mile southwest of the castle proper.  Bae and his scouts had ventured closer the day before, but the best concealment was behind the cliff, and he did have about a hundred men to hide.  There were more guards than that—an interesting statement in itself—but the force Bae had brought had been handpicked out of the best the army had to offer.  They were troublemakers, for the most part, clever and crafty, and not always the type you’d trust to hold your drink in a bar.  But every last one of them was angry at the Witch and wanted their homes back, which meant they’d follow Baelfire as long as the war lasted. 

Rumplestiltskin gave him a mock-insulted look.  “Who do you think I am, Regina?” 

Bae snickered.  “No, she’s a lot better looking than you.” 

“ _Really,_ Bae?  I’m slightly nauseated by that remark.  I think you just took years off my life,” his father replied, grimacing.  The pained look on Rumplestiltskin’s face only made Bae laugh harder.  But the next words definitely proved to be a buzz kill: “She could have been your sister, you know.” 

“Argh!  That was a mental image I didn’t need, Papa.  Bad enough that she’s Henry’s adopted mom and step-great grandmother all at the same time.  Can you imagine how twisted this would be if she was his _aunt,_ too?” 

His father’s face twisted up in an ironic smile, leaving Bae to ask plaintively, his voice suddenly small:  “She isn’t, is she?” 

“ _No._ ” 

“Thank God,” Bae breathed, swallowing back the image of his father and Regina’s mother.  _Oh, eww.  Just…oh, that’s wrong._   He’d never really met Cora, but everything Bae knew about her indicated that the woman had been more than a little crazy with power.  _This is definitely time to be grateful that Pop has decided that sweet and stubborn is more his type of woman than dark and dangerous._ He cleared his throat and tried to ask normally: “So.  What kind of traps did you find?” 

“Several layers of concealment lie on the north tower.  It looks like the easiest route in, but that wall isn’t actually crumbling.  If you try to climb it, you’ll find some nasty surprises.”  Rumplestiltskin pointed, and Bae frowned.  He _had_ meant to sneak in that way.  So much for that idea. 

“What else?” 

“The usual.  There seems to be a pack of enchanted wolves—or possibly bears; the spell is very similar—waiting in the tunnels underneath the castle.  The garden to the east is also enchanted to ensnare anyone passing through it with poisonous thorns.  Oh, and a handful of wards designed to kill, disfigure, or transform you if you step through them.  Most of those seem designed to turn you into flying monkeys, though.” 

Bae turned to stare at his father, unable to tell from the dry tone if he was joking or not.  “Really?” 

“Indeed.  An elegantly wicked solution to the problem of what to do with your enemies.” 

There were times that his father’s detachment made Bae’s stomach roll, and this was almost one of them.  Then a second thought occurred to him, and Bae _did_ feel sick.  “Do you mean that the flying monkeys we’ve been killing were once _people_?” 

“Probably.”  His father didn’t even blink, and if Bae hadn’t known that Rumplestiltskin _had_ actually made an effort over the last few years not to kill people, he would have been a lot more bothered.  That, and Bae wasn’t exactly an innocent himself.  He’d killed—even before joining this war—and he now commanded soldiers whose very job it was to slay the enemy.  Plenty of blood coated his hands, directly and indirectly.  

 “Damn,” Bae breathed, swallowing.  Killing soldiers was one thing—the few humans fighting on the Witch’s side seemed to have had made the choice to be there—but killing people who had been forcibly transformed into animals was yet another. 

David was going to have kittens when he heard that one. 

“It’s all a big trap, then, huh?”  That was the only thing that made sense. 

Rumplestiltskin nodded.  “Undoubtedly.” 

At least he didn’t have to explain his reasoning, which was nice.  Bae had grown used to seeing things that others didn’t, noticing traps in seemingly normal situations and spotting trouble before it hit.  Some of the soldiers called it _his_ magical talent, and though Bae knew they were joking.  It was just how his mind worked: crookedly, so to speak.  Baelfire didn’t approach problems in conventional ways, and he didn’t think in straight lines, either.  Thankfully, he’d inherited those traits from the man standing next to him, which meant that Rumplestiltskin understood. 

“Can you dismantle that magic?” Bae asked, studying the castle. They’d have to take the front way in, straight up the drawbridge and in through the gates.  The only other ways were through the tunnels, which were full of creatures; through the gardens that were enchanted to stick them with poisonous thorns; or through the not-as-damaged-as-it-looked north tower.  

“Not from here, but yes.”  His father’s gaze followed his, and Rumplestiltskin wore a matching thoughtful frown.  “I can keep the drawbridge down and the gates open for you, as well.  Assuming you want to use the front gate.” 

“I don’t think we have a choice.”  Damn it all.  This battle was going to _suck._ At least they’d have the element of surprise.  After all, what intelligent enemy would expect them to be stupid enough to come straight in the front door? 

****************

 

By noon on the nineteenth day, even the stubborn outlaw had to admit they were travelling in circles.  Earlier, Emma had suggested marking one of the trees that they were _certain_ they’d seen before, and Killian had cheerfully dug his sharpest appendage into the oak, scaring it quite remarkably.  He’d been halfway tempted to try to draw an ugly face in the tree and name it Robin Hood, but common sense had—sadly—won out.  Killian wasn’t sure where this utterly unreasonable anger of his came from, but he was beginning to realize that it wasn’t natural. 

In fact, Killian was starting to think that there was absolutely nothing natural about this situation.  He and Robin didn’t seem able to stop trying to one-up one another, and Emma was uncommonly lustful and moody—not that he minded the lustful, but Killian preferred to win her over honorably, not because something in the air made Emma desire him.  And Killian really _didn’t_ have much of a problem with Robin Hood, and rather liked Regina (in an odd way) enough that he wished her every happiness with the outlaw.  If Robin was made of smart and strong enough stuff to keep up with the Evil Queen, he was welcome to her…which meant that Killian’s extremely strong feelings of jealousy towards the outlaw were severely misplaced. 

He still wasn’t prepared to admit that Robin knew more about tracking than he did, or that Robin should be in charge of their little mission, but those concerns seemed rather mundane when he considered them in a more mature light.  Of course, the fact that that ‘more mature light’ had been provided via a sharp blow to the head didn’t do much to temper his fury; Robin had hit him hard enough to send Killian sprawling, and then Emma had threatened to kill Robin.  She still was, actually, shouting loud enough to wake the dead. 

His ears were _ringing_ , but Killian felt more like himself than he had in days. 

“Oh.  _Oh._ My friends, I think we’re in a bit more trouble than we thought—” 

“Shut up, pirate,” Robin snarled. 

“No.  You really want to listen to me this time, before I start _sharing_ your mutual desire for murder again.  Both of you.”  He struggled to his feet, wanting to cradle his head in his hand, and really wishing he could stick his hook in _something_ that needed killing.  “There’s obviously some magic at work here.  Emma’s been more resistant to it than either you or I—probably because of the magic she has—but there is some kind of force manipulating us.” 

The outlaw hadn’t tried to hit him again, yet, so perhaps his words were getting through.  Killian continued desperately, trying out outrun his own anger as much as the others’.  Pointing at himself and Robin, he explained: 

“You and I are furiously envious of one another, why I do not know.  Emma is alternatively lustful and furious”—she looked offended, so he shrugged—“sorry, love.  And all three of us are becoming increasingly unreasonable as time passes.  We _know_ we are walking in circles, yet we’ve done nothing about that.  In fact, I think this is the second time we’ve realized something is manipulating us.  Am I the only one sick of playing this game?” 

“I am not _lustful_ ,” Emma snarled as Robin sank down to sit on a tree, cradling his head in his hands.   

“Hook’s right,” the outlaw mumbled.  “My head is killing me, and I want to shoot someone.” 

“How about yourself?” Killian’s mouth asked before he could stop it.  “Gah—ignore me. That’s the magic talking.  I think.” 

 _I hope._   _Did I want to kill him this much the last time we were in the same place for more than a few hours?_   Killian wasn’t sure he’d ever spent more than a few hours with Regina’s pet outlaw.  _Regina.  Damn._ He’d almost forgotten what they were there for in the first place, and how Emma’s son would never forgive any of them if Regina was killed.  _Emma._   He repeated her name in his head.  _I’m doing this for Emma.  Not to prove that I’m the best man._   Judging from Emma’s attraction to him, Killian already knew who her choice would be, so why was he fighting so hard to impress her?  Robin didn’t look remotely like Baelfire, anyway. 

“All I know is that I’m going to kill you both if we don’t stop walking in circles,” Emma ground out.  “So get up, and let’s get moving.  And don’t look at me like that, Hook. I’m not kissing you again.” 

“I have a name, love,” he protested, fighting the urge to stab Robin.  Again. 

“Yeah, well, so do I,” she shot back.

 

****************

 

As a rule, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t much of a team player.  He wasn’t much inclined towards _combat_ , either, even of the magical variety.  He much preferred to be a spider, sitting at the center of a web and manipulating others until his ends were accomplished.  Oh, he’d dispatched various magical creatures over the years, and even dealt with the odd quester or twelve (with or without their closest friends acting as backup), but he’d never really been inclined to waltz about in the middle of a battle.  Indulging in that kind of foolishness was clearly reserved for the hero types, of which he was most assuredly _not._  

His son, however, apparently had the makings of a hero type.  Baelfire was admittedly more sensible than most of the others—although Rumplestiltskin had to grant that distinction to Charming as well, at least when the prince didn’t let his own overdeveloped sense of honor get in the way—but he was still quickly turning into the brave, battle-winning type of general who princesses swooned over. _Not that the princess Bae is interested in is much the swooning type,_ he thought with a thin smile.  But it was only a side thought.  The bulk of his concentration was on the spells he was busy dismantling, with what was leftover of his attention riveted on the battle playing out. 

The defenders were certainly well prepared.  But why wouldn’t they be when they’d expected someone to walk into their trap?  Bae’s cavalry charge came down the hill an hour before sunset, mostly hidden in the long shadows cast by the cliff behind them.  The horsemen were halfway to the castle before the defenders even had a chance to react, and by then, Rumplestiltskin had appeared inside their defensive envelope of magic and was wreaking havoc.  First to go were the outer wards, the simple ones, the defenses designed to turn away attackers by frightening people and horses both.  Next went the lines of fire that could crop up with the wave of a general’s hand; he took those out with a flick of his fingers, suppressing the magic when it tried to rise again and snuffing it out.  Not for the first time, he found manipulating such power ridiculously easy, as was turning the price of such magic against the next line of wards.  The fire itself burned those out, quickly and efficiently, blue flames dancing in midair. 

Those flames illuminated his silhouette, however.  To the defenders, Rumplestiltskin appeared merely as a lone man standing just to the right of the drawbridge, with hands that glowed of magic.  The archers fired on him, of course—they’d have been fools not to—but Rumplestiltskin vanished in a puff of golden smoke and reappeared on the other side of the drawbridge, still inside their magical lines.  _Close, but not close enough, dearies._   Despite the seriousness of the situation, he smiled. 

Bae and his fighters were very close now; flying monkeys soared out to meet them, only to have half their number felled by Bae’s archers, who had followed the horsemen down the hill at a more sedate and hard to notice pace.  Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin found the thread he was looking for and _pulled_ , unravelling the green woven threads of the most insidious spell the Witch had used here.  It hovered over the castle itself, designed to drop once Bae and his people were inside, but why wait until later?  No Witch was going to make a flying monkey out of his son. 

Not today.  Rumplestiltskin vanished and reappeared twenty feet to the east before another volley of arrows could reach him, and then snuck a glance at Baelfire.  Sword in hand, Bae was taking on two monkeys and winning, all the while encouraging his fighters forward.  He didn’t shout foolish inspirational phrases, and his soldiers didn’t seem to expect them; no, Bae’s orders were quick and simple, and got the point across.  Watching him made Rumplestiltskin unspeakably proud.  Bae had chosen to make something out of himself that his father would never have expected, but he was doing _well._   The two monkeys didn’t stand a chance against him, and neither did the singleton that followed them.  Soon enough, Bae was back at the front of the cavalry, taking a moment to reform his lines to meet the defenders properly. 

“Let’s go!” Bae shouted, and the horsemen charged forward. 

That was his cue.  Immediately, the drawbridge started rising; the Witch hadn’t chosen a fool to command her trap at this castle, and whoever it was might or might not know that their most important spell no longer existed.  Either way, they weren’t going to make taking the castle _too_ easy, and they undoubtedly meant to catch Baelfire and his people inside the courtyard.  That meant making a good faith effort at pulling the drawbridge up, and then keeping every gate leading out of the courtyard shut.  There the spell would either turn Bae and the others into obedient flying monkeys or the defenders could easily slay them from defensive positions on the inner walls; either way, the trap would snap shut and leave the Witch with fewer enemies. 

Except for the fact that Rumplestiltskin could appear just as easily inside the castle as outside it.  Oh, there were wards to keep him from doing so, of course, but he didn’t bother to dismantle those.  He just cut his magic through them like a knife through soft butter, and transported himself to a convenient spot next to the officer in charge of raising the drawbridge. 

“Hello, dearie.”  

The unfortunate soldier stared at him, his hands freezing on the wheel that controlled the drawbridge.  It was the last thing he ever did, but when Rumplestiltskin would once have laughed as he killed the man, he didn’t now.  He wasn’t the type to regret such a necessary action, but he no longer felt the need to revel in it.  Not when the imp wasn’t cackling in the back of his mind, always demanding something greater and darker than the time before.  Now Rumplestiltskin’s right hand just came up, entered the man’s chest without preamble, and tore his heart out. 

It was dust before the body hit the ground.  A surge of darkness filled Rumplestiltskin, but this wasn’t his old darkness.  This was the same power that could awe him, the power that came so quickly when called that it still took his breath away.  He’d shied away from using such singularly dark magic as this so far, somewhat afraid that doing so would send him spiraling back down the path towards his curse.  And yet—it felt no different.  This was simply dark magic, costly and dangerous, but no different than anyone else could use, save in its scope.  Intellectually, Rumplestiltskin had known it would not be different.  He’d simply been afraid he was wrong. 

Darkness and light in equal measure, then.  His power had a balance, and using dark magic would not disrupt that.  Something flickered at the edges of his memory, an image of a man with a staff, standing on a hilltop against—Rumplestiltskin shook his head to clear it.  Did he recognize the sword the man was wearing? _Not now!_  

There was no time for that, or even for relief, not when Bae and the others were so close to the gates.  A flick of his left hand sent the drawbridge back down, and a touch of magic locked the wheel in place so that no one would be able to move it.  The inside defenders were already taking their up positions, ready to pour arrows and boiling oil down on the intruders if the magic did not— 

Oh.  That was interesting.  Someone nearby had picked up the threads of the monkey-creating enchantment, attempting to reweave it.  The power was different than his, thorny and slippery and… _fae._   The realization threw a shiver up his spine. 

 _Hands and voices, pain and—_  

No. He wouldn’t do that now.  That power wasn’t _hers_ , wasn’t the overpowering darkness that had once drowned him.  No, this he could overcome, and easily.  His right hand came up quickly, closing on threads only Rumplestiltskin could see, and he tugged.  The woven mess collapsed down around the castle once more, but this time he poured power into it and the threads separated, disintegrating into pure magic.  Quickly, lest the magic escape and cause unexpected results, he redirected it, shaping the transformation spell into a heavy command to _sleep_ , and letting it fall on the defenders on the walls. 

Was one of them the unknown magic user?  There was no way to know until they tried to use magic again.  Meanwhile, his new spell dropped onto the men perched on the courtyards inner walls, and they collapsed as if run over by a wave, crumbling into unconsciousness one by one.  There were still others in the courtyard itself, but the spell had been limited in scope by the power he had twisted into creating it.  Unfortunately, his abrupt actions meant they were now aware of his presence and Rumplestiltskin had to vanish again as a trio of swordsmen rushed towards him.  He was _not_ turning into some swashbuckling hero.  That was Bae’s job. 

His timing had been perfect; had Rumplestiltskin lingered any longer, he might have been run over by his own son’s horse.  By the time he appeared near one of the inner gates, Baelfire’s cavalry was pouring into the courtyard, and swords clashed against one another as they fought the remaining defenders.  The odds were slightly in Baelfire’s favor, so Rumplestiltskin turned his attention to opening the three gates that led out of the courtyard and into the castle proper.  They were closed physically but not magically, which meant sending each of the three racing open was no hardship.  

Striding over to the second one—and avoiding two swordsmen dueling around a dying horse, Rumplestiltskin laid his hand against the cold metal and concentrated. 

The shouting and screaming of the battle made that difficult to do.  

“Look out!” Someone screamed. 

“To the right!” That was Bae.  “Get the archers to the right!” 

A quartet of arrows shot through the air.  Several voices swore; someone cried out in pain.  Magic rushed out of Rumplestiltskin’s fingers, filling his mind with— 

 _Twang._   

Instinct told him to move; or was that his magic helping out?  Either way, Rumplestiltskin vanished _again_ just in time for a crossbow bolt to drive its way into the very gate he’d been standing next to.  

Wheeling after he appeared three feet to the right of where he’d been, Rumplestiltskin’s left hand shot up, almost on its own.  The woman holding the crossbow screamed, throwing the now-fiery weapon away.  She was dark haired and dark skinned, dressed differently than the others, neither in a uniform or in armor.  Most of the defenders were magical creatures of one sort or another, but those that were human wore the green armor of the Witch.  That girl didn’t, which might have interested Rumplestiltskin if she hadn’t tried to shoot him.  Now she was wringing her hands out painfully, as if they’d been burned, of all things. 

 _Surprise, surprise.  Fire burns._   He managed not to snarl aloud, but Rumplestiltskin had always hated being interrupted.  He turned his attention back to his work. 

The girl was running. 

“Catch her!” Bae shouted at someone, and several horses bolted after her, their riders leaning forward in the saddle to urge them on. 

“I’ve got her!” Prince Philip was in front, suddenly dragging the kicking and fighting girl into the saddle with him.  A moment later, she was free of his grip and running again, but two other riders cut her off. 

Rumplestiltskin tore his attention away from the little drama.  It wasn’t relevant.  He touched the gate again, throwing up an impromptu shield with his left hand as he did so.  Yes, the spells he had guessed would be present were there.  There was a strange undercurrent to the magic, though, as if Zelena had been learning new types of lessons.  Oh, she wasn’t one of his students—thankfully, as he’d had enough trouble lately from former apprentices—but Rumplestiltskin knew where she’d learned from, and this was the wrong type of magic for that.  It was familiar, however, and his chest tightened when he recognized the source.  The undercurrents were there, plain as day, the same wisps of power that had tried to conquer his soul.  _Focus,_ he told himself firmly, pushing those worries away.  For now he had to deal with the other spells on the castle before they could hurt anyone else.  Including the prisoners. 

A few moments work unraveled the spells, and allowed him to concentrate on the people held inside the castle.  There were more prisoners than Baelfire had anticipated, Rumplestiltskin realized as his magic flooded him with answers, with information.  Small bits of magic anointed each of the prisoners, making them easier to transform, to track.  Yet the pieces were all part of a larger whole, and interconnected, so he swept them aside, turned them inside out and pointed the trackers back at their source. 

Soon enough, Zelena would experience tiny pinpricks all over her skin, annoying but not deadly, and the magic would tell her that her surveillance had failed.  This was only small magic on a large scale, nothing surprising except for the fact that she’d managed to do it to each of the hundred or so prisoners.  Doing that was incredibly time consuming, unless you had the power to sweep them all up at once and work the same magic together.  Still, that was hard to do, even with prisoners, and Rumplestiltskin was impressed.  Zelena continued to be as naughty as she was powerful, and she’d obviously found a new teacher.  One who Rumplestiltskin stilldidn’t know the name of. 

Names had power, and he _wanted_ that one. 

“All done, Pop?” 

Rumplestiltskin jumped.  Suddenly, Bae was at his side, dismounted and covered in mud and someone or something else’s blood.  When had that happened?  He’d been deep enough into the magic to ignore the passage of time, and even Rumplestiltskin knew enough to know that could be deadly on a battlefield.  Silently cursing himself as a fool, he replied as levelly as he could: 

“I am.  Your prisoners are through the second set of gates.  The nastiness guarding them has been…dismantled.” 

Bae smiled.  “Thanks.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied dryly.  “I am _not_ the sword-swinging battlefield type of sorcerer, and have no intention of becoming one.” 

His son only laughed.  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I've addressed a few requests/concerns in the last few chapters—if I haven’t, feel free to drop me a line! Now onto the questions: 1) Did Rumplestiltskin manage to knock out the fae who was trying to cast magic and 2) Did you catch Rapunzel’s cameo? You’ll see more of her in the next chapter.
> 
> Please do let me know what you think, and stay tuned for Chapter 13: “Names Have Power”, in which Emma tries desperately to get through the magic holding them, Rapunzel points fingers, Henry gets an unexpected visit from the Blue Fairy, and Rumplestiltskin learns something crucial to their survival.


	14. Names Have Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumplestiltskin learns something important, Emma tries out some magic, and the Blue Fairy talks to Henry.

**_Chapter Thirteen—“Names Have Power”_ **

 

They greeted dawn with another argument.  Emma’s head had been pounding so hard that she could barely sleep, but she’d _tried_ not to wake the other two while she lay there standing at the trees.  They’d stopped near the tree they somehow kept wandering by, just to keep the stupid thing in their sights, so Emma stared at _that_ as light started to trickle into the forest, wondering what the heck kind of magic could keep them trapped like this.  For the first time, she really regretted not accepting Regina’s offer of lessons.  Every other time Emma had needed to use magic, there had been a more experienced magical user along, someone who she could help _._   Regina was always able to handle the fine points, the parts of a spell that required skill and finesse, while Emma provided raw power.

But now there was no one else to depend upon.  If someone was going to beat this magical mess they were in, it was up to Emma—Emma who couldn’t keep her temper under control, and when she _could_ , found herself snogging Hook.  And then she’d think about Neal and feel guilty, which made no sense at all.  What the _hell_ was her problem?  She was even angry at herself for that, and Emma hated being out of control like this.  Knowing that magic had done this to her made things no better.  She still wanted to kiss and/or kill Hook and kill Robin despite the fact that the poor man hadn’t ever done a thing to her.  She barely knew Robin Hood, and yet the urge to claw his eyeballs out with her fingers was almost overwhelming.

“Did you have to start tromping around so loudly before the sun is even up?” Robin demanded now, lumbering to his feet and kicking Hook awake.

“Ow!” the pirate yelped.  “What was that for?”

Emma knew what the answer was before Robin replied: “Because you’ve gotten us lost.”

“ _I’ve_ gotten us lost?” Hook snarled, rising to glare at the outlaw, even as he brushed leaves off of his leather coat.  “ _Your_ pathetic tracking skills are what is responsible for our current predicament.  If you had listened to me in the first place, we would have avoided this section of woods entirely!”

“And taken _months_ to get there.  I’d rather walk in circles,” Robin shot back.

Frustrated, Emma interjected before they could come to blows.  Again.  “In case you’ve both forgotten, we’re currently doing just that.  So _shut the hell up_ and stop fighting.  I’m not breaking you up again.” 

“Says the woman who kisses with teeth.  If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a cannibal.”  Robin’s smile was wide and nasty.  “Not that Hook wouldn’t look better with half a face.” 

Emma ruthlessly repressed the urge to tear Robin’s grin off.  “ _Enough!”_  

But it wasn’t.  The boys kept arguing, leaving Emma to start desperately reaching for magic to quell whatever it was that kept them fighting with one another instead of their common enemy.

 

****************

 

“I’m not one of the Witch’s slaves,” the girl snapped, glaring defiantly at Bae and Prince Philip.  

Her long dark hair was tangled around her face, with the ends of a thick braid dragging on the ground, and her hands were bright red, burned, a little puckered with blisters.  Yet her pretty features were animated by fury rather than pain, and she glowered at Balefire as if daring him to contradict her.  _I wish David was here.  He’s so much better at calming down frightened people.  Or crazy people._ Frankly, he wasn’t certain which category the girl fell in. 

“I didn’t say you were,” Bae said cautiously, but the look on her face only grew more poisonous.  

“You didn’t have to!” 

Apparently saying hello was code for calling someone evil these days, but he bit back the urge to point that out, instead turning away from the girl with long, tangled hair.  Bae beckoned two of his officers forward.  “Go find the other prisoners.  Bring them here.” 

The courtyard was probably the best place to gather the people that the Witch had locked up, and it would keep the majority of Bae’s people away from any additional booby traps in King Stefan’s castle.  His father was prowling around the edges of the courtyard somewhere over to the right, hopefully finding and dismantling whatever nasty magical surprises the Witch had left behind, but that didn’t cover everything.  Not every trap had to be laid with magic, and Bae wasn’t going to take any chances of his soldiers falling into a pit or something equally unpleasant.  Either way, Bae figured that he was going to be stuck with this girl in the meanwhile.  _She seems like a lot of work._   Sighing, he tried to smile at the girl, who had started glaring at Philip while Bae was giving orders. 

“So, you have a name?” he asked her, trying not to sound impatient.  Or confrontational. 

“Do you?” she shot back. 

Bae bit off a frustrated response.  “Baelfire,” he answered.  “I’m one of the commanders in the army opposing the Witch.” 

“The hell you are,” she snarled, long hair obscuring her face as she shook her head wildly.  An angry swipe of her hands shoved it aside, and she winced as the burns on her hands made contact with her hair.  “No one beats the Witch.” 

“Well, we’re working on it,” Bae replied with a smile and shrug, trying to be friendly.  “No promises yet, but I think we did pretty good today.  And this isn’t our first victory, either.” 

“Rapunzel.” 

“Excuse me?” 

She scowled.  “That’s my name.  And you’re either wrong or lying.  That’s how she got most of us, by having someone show up to ‘help’ and then trapping us.  Ask anyone here.” 

Well, maybe that explained her hostility.  Bae frowned thoughtfully. 

“Then why would we come _here_?” he countered as reasonably as he could manage.  “If she’s already got you, why bother with another trap?” 

“Because she’s the Wicked Witch, and she likes her games!”  But Rapunzel sounded a little more doubtful, and Bae figured that he was starting to win her over.  A little. 

“Well, this isn’t one of them.  Hell, I’ve never even met the Witch, and I’m sure as hell not working for her,” he replied.   

“You might not be, but _he_ is,” Rapunzel snapped, pointing furiously. 

Pointing at Bae’s father. 

_“What?”_

 

****************

 

The ricochet was deadly.  

Desperate to stop the wild argument taking place between herself, Hook, and Robin, Emma reached for her magic.  All she wanted to do was stop _whatever_ it was that had a hold of all of them.  There was obviously some evil magic at work that was making them violent, argumentative, and emotional.  They’d been walking in circles for days—or was it weeks, now?  Emma’s sense of time had become distorted while they wandered—but _someone_ neededto break that logjam.  That meant _Emma_ had to do something, so she reached for the magic that she often wished she didn’t have, grasping it in her mental hands and _pushing_ outwards.  Immediately, her magic became a physical force, a shimmering white wind that ripped outwards from her, speeding at Robin fast and hard enough that it would inevitably tear him in half. 

Nearly, anyway. 

The outlaw’s impressive reflexes saved him.  Robin hit the ground a split second before the wave of magic flashed through the air, ruffling the forest-colored clothing he wore with the speed of its passage.  Hook yelped and threw himself aside, too, and even Emma had to duck when her own magic bounced off some invisible barrier a hundred or so feet away, ricocheting towards the trio and making them all bury their faces in the dirt.  After a moment, Emma started to bring her head up, sure that the danger had passed, only to swear as the power came back at her once more, a little bit weaker but still deadly. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Robin demanded. 

“I don’t know!” Emma gasped.  “I just tried to use magic to—” 

“Emma, you have to stop this!” Hook cut in as the power bounced back once more, making them duck yet again. 

“I can’t!”  Magic was emotion, Regina had told her once, and Emma should have thought of that before she acted in desperation.  But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t, and everything was happening too fast— 

Several agonizing minutes passed while the magic bounced back and forth, seemingly trying to kill them each time.  Finally, the waves of power died down and Emma was able to stand up, looking around cautiously.  “I think it’s stopped,” she told the others. 

“About bloody time,” Robin breathed, glancing nervously at the trees.  “That was utterly…terrifying.  I wasn’t aware of the fact that you have magic.” 

Emma groaned.  “Obviously it’s not one of my better talents.” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, love,” Hook said, stepping up next to her with a smile.  “You had to try something, and it was worth a shot.” 

“That’s nice of you to say, but I was still an idiot.”  She grimaced, glaring at the tree Hook had carved the ‘X’ into.  “And we’re still stuck here.” 

Robin peered into the trees again, squinting at something only he could see.  “Actually, I’m not so certain about that.” 

“What?” Emma and Hook both turned to stare. 

“There wasn’t a breeze before.  I noticed it, but I was too angry to mention,” Robin replied with an embarrassed shrug.  “We were stuck in a bubble of the forest.  Nothing left, nothing _entered_.  We were trapped by magic as much as we were trapped by our own emotions.” 

“And you’re saying that that’s gone?  The bubble?” Hook asked.  But Emma got in before Robin could answer: 

“I’m not angry anymore.” 

“What did you—oh.  I’ll be damned.”  Robin’s grin was lopsided, but his eyes were brighter than Emma remembered seeing them.  “You’re right.  You did it, Emma.  Your magic freed us.” 

Before she could reply, Hook’s right hand wrapped around her waist, and Emma found herself swept up into a passionate kiss.  Her emotions running high, she returned it with gusto, wrapping her fingers into the front of his leather coat and holding on tight.  The last few days had been an emotional roller coaster, full of terrifying ups and downs and unexpected jaunts to the left.  After all that, Emma just wanted something normal, something familiar, and if clinging to Hook made everything better for a few moments, she figured that the universe might just owe her a moment or two. 

The kiss took her breath away, and Emma smiled as she pulled back, looking into Hook’s eyes.  Her heart did an odd stutter, and she pushed aside her doubts.  Hook— _Killian_ —was a good man, and he’d stood by her through thick and thin.   He’d even crossed worlds to bring Emma and Henry back to the Enchanted Forest, and she _was_ attracted to him.  

“I told you not to be too hard on yourself, Emma,” Hook smiled. 

“Sorry about the last few days,” she murmured in response. 

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” he grinned cheekily.  “I wasn’t objecting to your advances, love.  I just wanted to make sure you were yourself when you were making them.” 

“Right.”  Suddenly embarrassed—Robin was clearing his throat with increasing volume and her face felt like it was on fire—Emma pulled back.  “Let’s go rescue Regina, huh?”

 

****************

 

Both of his moms had been gone for three weeks, and Henry was starting to get very worried.  Spending time with his Grandma Snow was good and all, but he really wanted to be along on the rescue mission that had gone after Regina, not sitting in the Dark Castle and waiting for Emma to get back.  But Emma had absolutely refused to let him come along, even though she’d let _Hook_ go, and Henry was certain that he would be far more useful than the pirate would, particularly on a quest that probably depended on knowledge of the Enchanted Forest.  Henry _liked_ Hook, but he knew that he’d have been a lot more help to his mom than anyone wanted to admit to. 

Unfortunately, the only one in the entire castle who seemed to think that Henry’s opinion mattered was Belle.  Grandma Snow was always so _busy_ , sorting out one problem or another, but Belle tended to stick to the library when she wasn’t solving problems, digging through books and researching…something.  But at least hanging out with her made him feel useful.  Belle accepted that Henry knew things about the Enchanted Forest, and happily took him on as a research assistant.  She hadn’t told him exactly what she was looking for yet, but Henry knew she would in time.  So far, Belle had only told Henry that she was looking into the ancient history of magic, and had sent him looking for a pair of books up on the second floor when the Blue Fairy showed up. 

“Hello, Henry,” Blue said quietly.  Still, the sudden sound of a new voice made Henry jump.  He hadn’t expected to see her, and almost fell off of the ladder he’d been perched on.  The chief fairy chuckled softly.  “Watch out, there.” 

She had a wand in her hand, Henry noticed, and was probably poised to catch him if he had taken a tumble.  He smiled.  “Hi.” 

Excited to see a new visitor, Henry scurried down the ladder, jumping to clear the last few rungs.  Although most people had seemed happy to see him, everyone but Belle still treated him like he was a little kid.  He was thirteen now, not eleven, and Henry knew that made him almost a man under the old rules in the Enchanted Forest. 

“I wanted to welcome you to the Enchanted Forest,” the Blue Fairy said with another gentle smile, sitting down on a nearby couch and gesturing for Henry to join her. 

“Thanks.”  It probably wasn’t polite to question a fairy, but Henry couldn’t stop himself from continuing: “So, what are you doing here?  Grandma Snow says you’ve been really busy.  Sorry if it’s rude to ask.” 

Blue laughed again.  “I don’t mind.  I have been very busy, and that’s actually why I came to talk to you.” 

“To me?” 

“Of course.” 

Henry peered at her curiously.  Was he detecting an odd edge in the Blue Fairy’s voice?  “Why me?” 

“Because you’re important, Henry.  Very important.  I know that Pan told you that, and because of how he tried to manipulate you, you are rightfully concerned.  But Pan was right about some things, Henry.” 

The mere mention of Pan brought back horrible memories, made Henry think of time spent floating in red smoke, screams echoing all around himself in an empty cage of nothingness.  Worse than his time in Pandora’s Box, however, was the memory of _believing_ , of being tricked into thinking he could save magic when all Pan had wanted to do was save himself.  Henry had been willing to die to be a hero, and Pan had used that.  Pan had used _him_ , had manipulated Henry into tearing his own heart out.  And then Pan had tried to kill his family and friends. 

Henry swallowed hard.  Of course, the Blue Fairy wasn’t Pan—she was _good_ and always on the right side.  Even though he knew she wasn’t perfect (Henry had read too many stories to think that even the Blue Fairy was beyond reproach), Henry wanted to trust her.  She’d helped his grandparents so many times that he _had_ to believe in her. 

“What was Pan right about?” he asked cautiously, and was rewarded by a gentle smile. 

“Your heart _is_ special, Henry.  You are the Truest Believer.  Pan wanted your heart in order to prolong his own life, but it really is so much more,” the Blue Fairy replied.  “ _You_ really are so much more.” 

“Like what?” 

Trying not to feel excited, Henry sucked in a deep breath.  He’d once said that he’d been waiting his entire life to be a hero, and he _had_ —but he had also learned the hard way that wanting to be a hero only caused trouble.  In Neverland, he’d rushed straight into Pan’s hands.  Henry came from a family of heroes and sorcerers, but he wasn’t a foolish boy any more.  He _wouldn’t_ let himself fall into that trap, no matter how exciting it sounded.  Having the Heart of the Truest Believer had only gotten him into a world of trouble in the past, and Henry wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. 

“Your heart has extraordinary power.  The Heart of the Truest Believer holds inside one of the most powerful magics to ever exist, and there are many who will try to take it from you.” 

Henry felt his eyes go wide.  “Other than Pan?” 

“I’m afraid so.” 

“And that’s why you’re here.  To warn me.”  Henry swallowed again, feeling cold inside.  When Pan had told him that he could be a hero, Henry had wanted so badly to believe him—but he’d learned that the world didn’t work like that.  He was probably too old to be afraid, but a part of him was downright terrified. 

“Indeed I am.  You’ve always been a bright boy.” 

Henry tried to smile at the compliment, but the expression felt empty.  “So, what do I do?” 

“Pan sought to use you to grant himself eternal life, but there are others who would do far worse.  There is one in particular who would use your heart for great evil, to grant herself dominion over all the realms, beginning here in the Enchanted Forest.”  The Blue Fairy looked away for a moment, swallowing.  “And she will stop at nothing.  Even if that means trapping you and keeping you away from your family.  Or even killing you.” 

“Will she use me against them?  And who is she?” 

“The Black Fairy.” 

Henry’s eyes went wide.  “You gave her wand to Mr. Gold—I mean Rumplestiltskin—to stop Pan.  I thought she was dead.” 

“Alas, no.  And she will try to use you against your family and friends, Henry,” the Blue Fairy replied sadly.  “If we can’t keep you away from her.” 

“What do I have to do?” he asked again, his voice growing stronger. 

Henry wasn’t going to be used against his family.  Not again.  Pan had lured his family to Neverland and had played his infernal games with them.  They’d been in constant danger because they’d come to save Henry, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.  Not if he could do anything to stop it.  _This_ time Henry would save them.  He wouldn’t make them save him.  Henry felt himself sitting up straighter as resolve banished his fears. 

“We have to take you someplace safe, and we must do so now.”

 

****************

 

Bae turned back to stare at Rapunzel, gaping.  “What _are_ you talking about?” 

“There’s no magic left in the world,” the girl replied in a snarl.  “Except that of the Witch.  Every magic user works for _her_.” 

“Oh.  Um.  I think you’ve got that wrong.”  Unable to help himself, Bae snickered, trying to imagine his father subservient to anyone—let alone a green-skinned witch.  It boggled the mind, but Rapunzel only looked offended by his laughter. 

“No, I _don’t_ ,” she snapped.  “It’s not my fault that you have no idea what’s been happening here.  The world changed while you were all gone.  All magic comes from the Witch now.  _Everyone_ knows that, and you’ve let one of her creatures in!” 

“Okay.  I think we need to straighten some stuff out.”  It really wasn’t funny anymore, so Bae turned and raised his voice.  “Pop, you want to come join us over here?”

 

****************

 

 _“Merlin,”_ a voice whispered in his mind, soft and worried.  

He turned, but it wasn’t Rumplestiltskin who turned.  It was a man within his memory, an action that took place hundreds if not thousands of years previously.  He held a staff in his hand—or the man in his memory did—and leaned on it heavily as he peered at the slender woman who stood beside him.  He was wearing a sword, too—one that was familiar to Rumplestiltskin, and not just the memory.  Excalibur? 

_“You cannot do this alone,” she said when he did not answer.  Angular features made her thin face look even more wan in the fading light; no one would call Morgan beautiful, but then again, no one could call her fully human, either.  They were, the both of them, partbreds and outcasts, though the foolish humans who sneered and called her “Fae” still revered him.  And yet her beginnings had been far more honorable than his.  How could anyone decry the love a fairy felt for a human man whilst half worshiping the offspring of a woman raped by a demon?_

_He scowled, the expression at home on his face.  “I can.  I shall.”_

_“Merlin—”_

_“Not this time, Morgan,” he cut her off, feeling old.  “I am the last of my kind.  Perhaps this is for the best.”_

_“It_ isn’t _,” his half-fae friend insisted.  “Circe’s actions brought death down upon herself.  But what happened to Saint Germain, and Baba Yaga was horrible.  Will you let them take you down as well?  Will you too die to sake their lust for more and more magic, to have your powers broken up?  You can do so much more than any mere_ human. _”_

_She all but spat the word, but then, the human witches and sorcerers that rose out of Saint Germain and Baba Yaga’s deaths had long since labeled Morgan Le Fae as evil.  He knew it was not so simple; Morgan had never fit in any tiny category they wanted to put her in.  He had always known.  So he relented and told her that which he had known would anger her:_

_“I won’t be alone,” he said softly.  “_ _Danns' a'Bhàis will stand with me.”_

_Morgan’s face darkened.  “Her again.”_

_He grimaced.  No, this wasn’t going to go well.  Morgan had never trusted the Black Fae, no matter how close their relation.  Truth be told, Merlin had never asked Morgan about the depth of her suspicions—some things were best left unasked.  He’d been torn between Morgan and Danns for centuries.  Today was nothing new._

_“She is my friend,” he replied mildly._

_“More fool you.  She’ll betray you.”_

_Morgan Saw the future sometimes, he knew.  She wasn’t a true Seer—after Saint Germain’s death, the actual Seers amongst humanity had gone to ground, fearing to share his fate.  More than two hundred years later, the Seers remained hidden, no matter how earnest Merlin’s attempts to make their world safe had been.  Morgan had been by his side for most of those battles; she was not as old as Merlin, yet she was almost as immortal as her relatives amongst the fae.  He trusted her above all, and loved her dearly.  But here he knew she was wrong._

“Pop, you want to come join us over here?” 

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flew open.  There’d been fae magic on the castle, and that had—that had _what_?  He had no idea where that memory had come from, yet it felt so very real.  Had he been standing upon that plain?  Of course not.  That idea was utterly ridiculous, and Bae was calling for him again.  With an effort, he turned his attention to his son, twisted his mind back to the present.  Names and faces still echoed in his mind. 

Danns.  A pale-faced woman with dark red hair, her features ones that both he and the memories knew.  She had betrayed her friend.  _Old friend,_ she called him, calling to the memories lurking in his mind.  She was beautiful and terrifying, and so very powerful.  He— _Merlin_ —had trusted her.  He had never come back from that battle, though history would call it a victory.  Tales said that Merlin had died a hero, vanishing in the mists until he would one day be needed again, but the tales were wrong.  His friend had betrayed him, tortured him— 

Rumplestiltskin had wanted a name.  Now he had one.  _Danns' a'Bhàis._   Dance of Death. 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to all my lovely readers! You’re all the reason I’m enjoying writing this story so much! My questions this time around are: 1) Do you think Henry will go with Blue and 2) What do you think will happen once Emma, Hook, and Robin reach the Forbidden Fortress to rescue Regina? 
> 
> Please do leave me a comment if you want, and stay tuned for Chapter 14: “The Heart of the Truest Believer”, where Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire run afoul of some royalty, Emma and co. find Regina, Belle makes an important discovery, and the Blue Fairy is Up To Something.


	15. The Heart of the Truest Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina and Maleficent have an understanding, Blue is up to no good, and Belle breaks out the "Historie" again.

**_Chapter Fourteen—“The Heart of the Truest Believer”_ **

 

Trying to convince Rapunzel that the Witch wasn’t the only magic in the world was put on hold by the arrival of the other prisoners.  By the time Baelfire’s father had noticed that he was being beckoned, the other humans who the Witch had locked up arrived in the courtyard, led by two very confounded officers.  One look at the pair of prisoners leading the group sent Prince Philip scurrying from Bae’s side to greet them, and things only went downhill from there.  After all, no one had expected King Hubert to walk into the still-gloomy courtyard.  Philip had been utterly shocked to find his father amongst the prisoners—this castle, after all, had belonged to King Stefan, Philip’s father- _in-law_ , and there had been absolutely no evidence at all that either of Philip’s parents were alive.  Queen Leah, King Stefan’s wife and Aurora’s mother, turned out to be alive as well, with both monarchs having been hidden along with a little over a hundred other prisoners in the bowels of the castle.  Now, Philip’s father and Aurora’s mother stood side by side, eying Bae and Rumplestiltskin warily. 

Rapunzel immediately shifted to a spot near the king and queen, still glaring.  Queen Leah paused to speak to the girl, and her face grew tight while they talked.  Bae couldn’t hear what was said, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t like it. 

“Father, Queen Leah, this is Baelfire,” Philip started nervously.  “He’s my commanding officer.” 

Two royal sets of eyes turned on Bae, and he fought the urge to swallow nervously.  He was used to the Charmings and Regina, or even Philip, Aurora, Thomas, and Ella.  Out of all the royals he usually spent time around, only the Charmings were actual monarchs, and Bae had known them in Storybrooke.  Besides, they were Emma’s _parents_ , and that made Bae see them in an entirely different light.  King Hubert and Queen Leah, however, were rulers of kingdoms…and Bae was just a cheeky kid from the Frontlands who happened to have fallen in love with a lost princess.  _And I don’t even know if Emma loves me back.  It’s not like I have any claim to her, and that means I’m probably lower than dirt in their eyes._  

“Uh, hi,” Bae replied after a moment, shrugging before he could do something stupid like wave his hand at a king and queen. 

“Lord Baelfire of where?” Queen Leah asked immediately. 

“Oh, um, I’m not a lord.  Definitely not.”  He threw a somewhat panicked glance his father’s way, wondering exactly where he should say that he was from.  But Rumplestiltskin only shrugged, and Bae felt a naughty smile pulling at his own lips.  “Most recently I’m from New York, but I doubt you’ve heard of the place.” 

Both monarchs blinked.  Even Philip looked dreadfully confused; the prince was aware of Storybrooke, but probably didn’t appreciate the fact that there were othertowns and cities in the Land Without Magic.  And yes, that definitely was an amused smirk twitching on his father’s face.  Bae probably shouldn’t have indulged his own twisted sense of humor, but they _had_ asked.  Not for the first time, Bae wished David was there.  David might have been younger than Leah and Hubert both, but he would have had the diplomatic chops to be on equal footing with these two.  Instead, they got a spinner’s kid from the Frontlands who hadn’t been in the Enchanted Forest for over two centuries and really didn’t care who these two monarchs were. 

_Probably comes from knowing that I’m about two hundred years older than both of them,_ Bae thought behind a crooked smile. 

“I see,” King Hubert said stiffly, his posture utterly regal despite the filth covering his clothing and his skin.  The disgust in his eyes, however, made Bae square his shoulders. 

“I am still in command here,” he said before they could get too condescending.  _And yes, Philip is working for me, even if_ he’s _a prince and I’m a nobody._ “We’ll take care of your people and get you to safety.  We don’t really have the forces to hold this castle, not now—but we can get you all out of territory controlled by the Witch.” 

“We didn’t expect to find so many prisoners here, Father,” Philip put in.  “Our main army isn’t nearby, but we’ve been making great strides these past months.  The Witch’s forces are on the run, and we freed an entire kingdom from her control recently.” 

“That’s excellent news,” Hubert said, his aloofness melting a little bit before he turned back to face Bae.  “We thank you.” 

“Just here to help.” 

Queen Leah, however, did not look nearly so appeased, and she turned to Bae’s father with an icy glare.  “You are the magic user?” 

 “Indeed I am.” 

_Oh, crap._   Bae twisted to look at his father, noting how the level tone of voice met up with a twisted smile.  He really didn’t know his father in the Enchanted Forest at all, but Bae did know _himself_.  Faced with that much smug superiority, Bae’d be likely to mouth off, and _he_ hardly had Rumplestiltskin’s power or reputation.  From what he’d seen in Storybrooke, his father wasn’t about to put up with this kind of reception, even coming from a queen. 

“And you claim not to be working for the Witch?  We know that to be a lie.  Whoever you are—” 

“Rumplestiltskin,” Bae’s father cut her off, all sharp edges and a mocking bow.  “At your service.” 

Both monarchs flinched, and Hubert actually stumbled a step backwards.  Was it horrible of Bae to relish how wide their eyes went after both monarchs had made it plain how little they thought of him?  He supposed that he shouldn’t be surprised; the Enchanted Forest _was_ a feudal society.  Perhaps he’d just spent too long in the modern-day Land Without Magic and was too used to being accepted based on his own merits instead of his birth.  _Then again, being Rumplestiltskin’s son probably counts for a lot in this world_ , he realized.  _Huh._  

“The Dark One is dead,” Leah managed after a moment, sneering right back. 

“It’s nice to know that my reputation preceded me, dearie, but you needn’t get so worked up,” Rumplestiltskin retorted with a flourish of one hand and a sardonic smile.  “Unfortunately for my old friend Zelena, I am _very_ far from dead, and I am certainly not her…‘creature’.  In fact, I’m of a mind to pull her off that throne she’s stolen.  Assuming you’re interested.” 

“You’re…you’re _helping_ in the fight against the Witch?” Hubert asked, clearly stunned. 

“That would appear to be the case.” 

Philip, who was at least somewhat used to Bae’s father’s presence, spoke up again: “Those of us who were left behind during the curse apparently missed some significant alliances forming.  Queen Regina is with us as well.” 

Hubert and Leah exchanged mystified looks, but Bae cleared his throat before either of them could start asking more questions.  

“I hate to interrupt, but what we need to do right now is get out of—”

“No.” 

“Papa?”  Surprise shocked the word out of him, and Baelfire twisted to look at his father, whose attention was now on something in the distance.  Both monarchs were now staring at _him_ again, but they never got the chance to ask the questions obviously burning in their minds. 

Rumplestiltskin turned away very slowly.  “There’s a fae here.  Get down.”

 

****************

 

Four hours after Emma’s magic broke through the trap forcing them to walk in circles, the trio finally approached the Forbidden Fortress.  Knowing how close they’d been the entire time—for _four_ days!—rankled, but Emma was glad to know that her frustrations were solely her own.  At least there wasn’t some stupid spell setting her temper off now. 

“So, how do we get in?” she asked Robin when they stopped about a mile short of the castle.  It really was, well…foreboding.  Emma had broken into enough places to know that it was going to be a tough nut to crack. Thankfully, they had Robin along, and he’d done this before.  Working together was so much easier now that all three of them were less angry.  Even Hook’s ego seemed to be under control. 

Robin grimaced.  “With Maleficent here?  I wasn’t dumb enough to do that last time.  Best bet is to find some way to distract her and then sneak in.” 

“Were there fewer magical wards warning of your approach, that _might_ be a passable notion,” a fourth voice suddenly said from behind them. 

Emma, Hook, and Robin whirled together, and Emma felt her eyes go wide.  Between Regina and Rumplestiltskin, she thought she’d known what to expect from an evil wizard/witch/sorcerer/whatever, but Maleficent really took the cake, complete with a tall _horned_ headdress that should have looked ridiculous but somehow didn’t.  Her eyes were fierce, framed by a pale and angry face and somewhat wild hair.  Unfortunately, the staff in her hand was definitely pointed their way, too. 

“I think I liked you better as a dragon,” Emma retorted, drawing her sword. 

Maleficent threw her head back and laughed.  Emma had _seen_ Disney movies where she was the villain.  How could a cackle sound so threatening?  Magic tingled in the distance, making the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck stand up. 

“We seek no conflict with you,” Robin spoke up reasonably.  “We’re only here for Queen Regina.” 

“And if I said that would bring you into conflict with me?” Maleficent sounded almost playful, and her smile really ticked Emma off.  

“Then we’ll do whatever we have to do,” Robin replied, his voice growing hard.  

Emma smiled nastily.  “I killed you as a dragon.  I’ll do it again if I have to.  Bet it’s easier this time.” 

“My, my.  Your friends _are_ loyal,” Maleficent said lightly, but her eyes flicked off to Emma’s right as she spoke. 

“I told you that you shouldn’t screw with them,” Regina retorted as she appeared in a cloud of purple smoke. 

Maleficent pouted.  “I did have to test them.  I was _bored_.” 

Regina rolled her eyes.  “Are you finished?  Or do we have to go through this again?” 

Was it Emma’s imagination, or did Maleficent wince? 

“There’s no need,” the fallen fairy replied tartly.  “We have an understanding.” 

“Good.” 

With those words, Maleficent vanished in another cloud of purple smoke, pausing to cast an unreadable look Hook’s way.  Stunned—hadn’t they come all this way expecting to do battle against Maleficent?—a long moment passed before Emma could find her voice.  Finally, Hook beat her to the obvious question: 

“Pardon me for asking, and perhaps I miss things, being a simple pirate and not privy to the higher workings between sorcerers, but what in the world just happened?” 

Regina laughed.  “Maleficent and I are old friends.  A few betrayals one way or another isn’t going to change that,” she replied easily.  “It took a few battles, but we understand one another again.” 

“A few battles?” Emma echoed.  “That sounds ominous.” 

“Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, Miss Swan.”  Regina’s smile was deadly, and Emma had to admit that (borderline?) evil was a good look on her.  Here, Regina’s hair was longer and she dressed in mostly black, with long dresses that flowed around her as she moved.    “ _Everything_ is different here.” 

“Thanks.  I think.” 

Regina might have said something else, but Robin stepped forward.  “Are you all right, love?” he asked her quietly, taking her hands in his. 

“Of course I am.”  Emma marveled at how the sorceress’ cutting expression softened immediately.  “You didn’t have to come rescue me.” 

“And let these two come by themselves?  Not a chance.”  The outlaw laughed, and then winked.  “Besides, isn’t Belle always saying that some things must be fought for?” 

There was obviously much left unsaid, and Regina clearly heard every unspoken word, judging from the way she smiled.  The evil queen’s eyes met the outlaw’s, and they might as well have been alone for all they noticed Emma and Hook.  They kissed lightly, but there was a promise behind the simple expression of affection that spoke volumes of how much they  meant to one another.  Watching them made Emma blink.  How did they become so comfortable together in less than a year?  She was almost reminded of the bond between her parents, and wasn’t _that_ creepy? 

Yet Emma’s chest felt suspiciously tight.  Much though she claimed that Henry was the only love in her life, she _wanted_ that.  She snuck a glance Hook’s way.  The pirate captain was certainly appealing on a visual and emotional level, but was he like every bad boy she’d ever fallen for, or was he something more?  There was no denying Emma’s attraction to him—or his to her—but maybe Emma was looking for more than just attraction. 

 

****************

 

Something wasn’t quite right in right in the way the Blue Fairy was watching him, and it reminded Henry of Pan.  He’d been manipulated then, too, straight into tearing his own heart out because Pan had _lied_.  Swallowing, Henry force himself to take a mental step back and consider the situation.  _Last time, I endangered_ everyone _because I wanted to be a hero.  I’m not going to let anyone manipulate me this time._  

“But aren’t I safe here?  With my family.” Henry asked the Blue Fairy.  Why was she trying to be so concerned for him _now_ , anyway?  When his family had come to rescue Henry in Neverland, the Blue Fairy had been nowhere to be seen.  _She’d_ stayed in Storybrooke, despite the fact that she was now implying that Henry’s very heart was dangerous.  If she’d been so worried, why hadn’t she done anything then? 

“Oh, Henry,” the Blue Fairy sighed.  “I wish you were.” 

“So, why does the Black Fairy want Henry, exactly?” a new voice inquired, and Henry turned to see Belle approaching with a smile.  Relief washed through him.  He _liked_ the brilliant Beauty-turned-librarian, and thought she was one of the bravest people he’d ever met.  After all, you had to be both smart and courageous to fall in love with Rumplestiltskin, otherwise you would have either given up or wound up dead.  But what Henry liked most about Belle was the way she never admitted defeat. 

He was glad to have someone else here for this conversation.  There was something in the way the Blue Fairy spoke that told Henry that she really _wasn’t_ being entirely truthful.  Maybe that was just because he was still technically a kid, but maybe she was just being sneaky, too. 

Henry had had enough of _that_. 

The Blue Fairy stiffened.  “I would not expect you to understand.” 

“Because I love Rumplestiltskin,” was the blunt reply, and Belle’s smile grew razor sharp.  “I know what you said to Snow.” 

“This is not your concern, child.  Henry and I were speaking privately and—” 

“I’m okay if Belle stays,” Henry cut in.  She wasn’t exactly his step-grandmother or anything, but Belle was his grandfather’s True Love, and that made her family.  Belle smiled at him as she sat down in a nearby chair, cradling a book in her lap, and Henry grinned back. 

“So.”  Belle spoke brightly, but her eyes were wary.  “Why is it that you’re so concerned about the Black Fairy that you’d have to take Henry away without so much as talking to any of his parents?” 

“There are forces gathering,” the Blue Fairy replied ominously, just as Henry started thinking about how odd it was that she had waited until _everyone_ but Grandma Snow was gone to bring this up. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” Belle retorted immediately, sounding rather like the one of his grandparents that liked the Blue Fairy the least.  He knew that Snow and David both trusted her implicitly, but Regina certainly didn’t, and Emma always reserved judgment.  Henry didn’t know how his dad felt, but he was willing to bet that Neal would find this entire conversation very suspicious, too. 

The Blue Fairy glowered.  “These are things that no mere human would understand.” 

“Should I call Rumplestiltskin, then?  I’m sure you’d agree that he’s no ‘mere human’,” Belle countered, her blue eyes dancing.  Henry snickered. 

“That will _not_ be necessary.”  The fairy rose, flattening her skirts angrily. “Henry, I will speak to you another time.  Thank you for listening to me.” 

“You’re welcome, I think,” he replied warily as the Blue Fairy shrank down to glittering fairy size. 

“Next time, why don’t you try talking to one of his parents, too?” Belle suggested pleasantly.  “I’m sure they will share _all_ of your concerns for Henry’s safety.” 

But the Blue Fairy was already flying out the window, and did not answer.  Henry stared after her for a long moment, frowning in confusion, before he turned to look at Belle again. 

“That was really weird.” 

Belle nodded.  “I quite agree.  And something isn’t right here.” 

“I think she wasn’t telling the whole truth,” Henry said hesitantly.  “I mean, I _want_ to believe her, but…” 

“But I think your instincts are spot on,” she agreed.  “Will you promise me something, Henry?” 

“Sure,” he answered automatically, and then caught himself.  Henry wasn’t ten any more, and he knew better than to make blanket promises.  “I mean, if I can.” 

“Just don’t talk to the Blue Fairy without someone else around, okay?  Find one of us first.” 

“Oh, that’s easy.  Okay.” 

Belle _was_ smart.  Henry had known that, but she could still surprise him.  There hadn’t been much on Belle in his book (the Beauty and the Beast story in it had been the saddest story of all, given that it ended with the Beast throwing Beauty out), so everything he knew about her was from having known her in Storybrooke.  But she was definitely on to something about the Blue Fairy, and Henry promised himself that he’d be careful, too.  Even when they turned back to researching the history of magic—Belle’s pet project hat Henry had volunteered to help with—Henry couldn’t keep his mind off of what the Blue Fairy had said.  _Was_ he in danger, or was there something they were missing?

 

****************

 

Rumplestiltskin had never been one to seek out magical battles, but he’d duked it out with a sorcerer or two in his time.  Usually he found himself slinging magic around like that when some fool thought they were powerful enough to take on the Dark One and gain his powers through victory, but this was not exactly normal.  _This_ battle started almost without warning, with one of the “human” prisoners suddenly dropping her glamour and trying to knock him unconscious. 

Had the fae in question been a little less dangerous, Rumplestiltskin would have mocked her for the clumsy beginning.  Yet she came at him wielding enormous amounts of power, using magic of the sort that haunted his nightmares, and for the first time in centuries, Rumplestiltskin actually _hesitated_.  He recovered quickly enough to absorb the spell without allowing it to disable him, but it was a closer call than he would ever admit to and left him aching.   Particularly with his son and various soldiers, royals, and prisoners all looking on.  He had a reputation to uphold, after all, and it simply wouldn’t do to allow them to think him weak. 

Truth be told, Rumplestiltskin would do just about anything to avoid letting people see him as weak, and if that meant he had to reach into the depths of power he was utterly unfamiliar with—and slightly terrified of—he would do so.  Even three hundred years as the most feared creature in the Enchanted Forest hadn’t robbed him of the memory of what it had been like to be frightened and bullied, and his recent experiences with the fae only underlined that long ago learned lesson.  He would rather be dead than weak, and as he was rather fond of living, whatever he had to do, Rumplestiltskin would do.  After that first moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his mental hands around that fathomless magic and let it fly. 

Three minutes later, he stood over a female fae, marveling at the power crackling through his every limb.  Even as the Dark One, he’d _never_ felt magic like this.  He’d killed fairies, yes—usually by catching them by surprise, since Rumplestiltskin was a big believer in doing things the smartest way possible—but never so easily.  Fairies were _powerful_ , and yet the fae were even more so, because they didn’t limit themselves to just using fairy dust, dark or light.  The fae also used straight up magic, and this one did so amazingly well.  She was more talented than just about any human sorcerer Rumplestiltskin had ever encountered, excepting Regina and Cora, and that _should_ have made her very difficult to defeat. 

Except it didn’t. 

“Bite off more than you can chew, dearie?” he taunted her as Bae stepped up to his side. 

Snarling, the fae tried to get up, but Rumplestiltskin waved a hand and magic pinned her to the ground.  Hard.  He smiled, and she glared. 

“I don’t suppose you’d like to save your life by volunteering some information,” he offered, just to see what she’d say.  People said that Rumplestiltskin would make a deal with just about anyone, and while that wasn’t exactly true, he _was_ perfectly happy to barter for information.  At his left, Bae winced slightly, but his son didn’t argue—Bae was a practical sort, after all, and this fae _had_ just attacked them. 

“No.” 

Without warning, magic roared out from her clenched fists, boiling up and almost overcoming his defenses.  It came in hard and fast, brilliant and deadly, designed to rip him limb from limb and leave Rumplestiltskin begging for death.  The spell was sheer darkness mixed with a touch of madness, and so utterly powerful that it should have hit him before he had any idea he was in danger. 

But he saw the magic coming, and even more importantly, he _recognized_ it.  Knowledge welled up from somewhere inside Rumplestiltskin, allowing him to turn the attack aside with a flick of his right wrist, wrapping it into a ball and catching the now-glowing orb in the palm of his hand.  Blinking, he turned to study the magic he’d trapped, admiring the intricately woven strands of silver, black, and purple as they hummed and buzzed for release.  The spell was as potent as anything he’d ever cast as the Dark One, complete with a solid core of evil fairy dust to give it sharp pointy teeth.  It was a fascinating construct, and the well-studied sorcerer in him wanted to hold the magic and dissect it, scrutinizing every piece and learning every individual spell.  There were at least seven different enchantments encased in the fist-sized ball he held, and it was utterly fascinating. 

“You all right, Papa?” Bae asked quietly from his left, jerking Rumplestiltskin back to the present.  Startled, he glanced at his son. 

“Oh, I’m quite all right.  Better, I think, than our friend here would like me to be.”  Looking down at the angry fae again, Rumplestiltskin shot her a nasty grin.  “Isn’t that so?” 

She growled, a low and dangerous sound that should have set his teeth on edge.  Yet somehow it just felt familiar.  Had he seen her before?  Rumplestiltskin didn’t think she was one of the fae who had… _visited_ him during his imprisonment.  But then again, he’d been so out of it that he might not have been able to tell any of the fae apart, except for _her_.  _Call her what she is.  Danns' a'Bhàis.  The Black Fairy._  

“Then kill me,” the fae hissed.  “ _Merlin._ ” 

That made him blink again, cocking his head to peer at her in confusion—confusion that quickly bled over into almost irrational anger.  The name jelled far too well with the visions/memories he still hadn’t overcome, and being at a disadvantage always infuriated him.  His voice came out clipped and sharp: “My name, dearie, is _Rumplestiltskin_.” 

“Merlin,” she repeated, scowling right back at him.  “Deny it all you like.  It’s what you _are_.” 

She vanished. 

And then the ground started to shake.

 

****************

 

Belle wasn’t sure what made her pick up _An Abridged Historie of the Formation of Magic_ again.  She still didn’t know the name of the book, and had all but forgotten it once she had finished reading the slender volume, but something made her go back to it.  Belle hadn’t looked at the ragged old book in what felt like forever; she’d last noticed it at least six months before they’d found Rumplestiltskin in Bremen.  Being Belle, at least thirty other books had passed through her hands and her mind since then, which meant the details were now a little blurry.  Yet hearing the Blue Fairy mention the Heart of the Truest Believer made Belle dig the old book out once more, flipping through its pages until she found the right section. 

_ Incidental Powers _

_Much like the Secondary Powers (referenced previously), Incidental Powers were created through the actions of magic-users, with few exceptions.  However, unlike the Secondary Powers, these magics are not objects or magical beings; they are instead_ statuses _granted to an otherwise normal entity.  Usually human, these beings are remarkable creatures in and as themselves, but it is the incidental powers they bear which are of interest here.  These powers include: the Golden Touch, the All-Seeing Eye, the Bones of the Willing Sage, the Heart of the Truest Believer, and the Heart of Darkness.  The possibility of other incidental powers developing over time cannot be discounted, but in the first millennia of magic, only these five have been identified._

_Each incidental power takes residence in a living being.  While the Golden Touch and the All-Seeing Eye are commonly known as curses, this is an incorrect assumption.  Both, like all incidental powers, can exist at a maximum of once per generation, but are often much less common.  These powers have been known to skip over as much as six or seven generations without manifesting themselves, only to reappear again after having been all but forgotten.  Yet the physical exhibitions of each power are not the sum of its importance.  While each “possessor” of an incidental power can indeed exercise a certain degree of magic because of the power’s presence, the actual incidental power itself becomes a magical object when removed from its host._

_In this manner, the incidental powers take on a status similar to that of the objects of secondary power, save for the fact that they first must be removed from the being who naturally possesses them._

_Although all five incidental powers are extraordinary in their own right, by far the most powerful of the group is the Heart of the Truest Believer.  Any heart removed by magic becomes enchanted, but unlike these other hearts, the Heart of the Truest Believer already possesses magic.  In fact, its magic is the second purest and lightest magic in all the realms, only eclipsed in power by True Love._

_Alone of the incidental powers, the Heart of the Truest Believer always exists within a human being.  Unlike the Golden Touch and the All-Seeing Eye, there are no external indicators of its presence, but a well-versed magic user can identify the host.  The Heart itself is always golden in color, a true “heart of gold.”  When removed, it can grant a magic user eternal life, great power, or the ability to freeze time itself.  When inserted into_ another _being, the Heart can be used to magically bind that being to whom took the Heart from its host.  It is said that both the Blue Fairy and the Black Fae committed themselves to great study of the Heart’s magic, discovering that if long life can be granted to the host, the Heart itself will continue to provide power for centuries.  Each captured and held at least one host during the first millennia of magic, testing both the limits of the power and its relation to the human host. By this time, the rivalry between the two Original Fairies was fierce, and although both uncovered further powers of the Heart, those were kept secret by their respective followers lest the other discover them._

_Perhaps because of its great power, the Heart of the Truest Believer is the most uncommon of the incidental powers, appearing no more regularly than once per each century.  However, should the Host be killed before their time, should their lifespan be cut short by violence or trickery, another Heart of the Truest Believer will immediately manifest itself._  

Blinking, Belle immediately turned back one page to read the entire section again.  Until the Blue Fairy had referenced the Heart of the Truest Believer, they’d all thought it just to be a label Pan had stuck on Henry, something created to convince Henry to do his bidding.  Yet this thousand year old book indicated otherwise.  _Henry isn’t the first,_ Belle realized with a suddenly racing heart.  The book implied that the Heart of the Truest Believer was incredibly powerful, and Belle knew what that meant.  She remembered her history well enough.  Ordinary humans who found themselves in possession of items of great power never fared well in the Enchanted Forest.  _I wonder what happened to the others._  

“That lying…mosquito,” she hissed, her eyes travelling back back to the second to last paragraph. 

The _Blue Fairy_ had experimented on one of Henry’s predecessors.  She’d implied that the Black Fairy—suddenly and conveniently alive, according to her—would want to use Henry’s heart to endanger his family, but she’d never mentioned that she also had done such things in the past!  Was that why Blue was so eager to spirit Henry away without anyone’s knowledge?  Did _she_ want the Heart as well? 

Slamming the book shut, Belle headed out to find Snow.  _No one_ was going to hurt a member of Belle’s family, not while she could prevent it. 

 

****************

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and please drop me a line to tell me what you think! My questions this time around are: 1) Do you think Snow will believe Belle over Blue and 2) What kind of magic do you think that the (now disappeared) fae woman has left behind? 
> 
> Next up is Chapter 15: “Necessary Evils”, where Henry is reunited with all three parents, and Snow begins to ask the hard questions.


	16. Necessary Evils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rumplestiltskin is something of a fool, Henry reunites with all three parents, and Belle talks to Snow.

**_Chapter Fifteen—“Necessary Evils”_ **

 

Everything started happening at once, and Rumplestiltskin found himself standing at the epicenter of a growing earthquake.  Only the warning provided by a slight quiver of magic that preceded the sudden shaking and rumbling allowed Rumplestiltskin to stay on his feet at all; everyone around him—from Bae to the insolent royals to the nearby guards—tumbled to the ground.  Tremor after tremor rolled across the landscape, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that the castle behind him was starting to crumble.  

“What the hell is going on?” Bae demanded, struggling to his feet.  Another aftershock made the ground lurch, and Bae tumbled into his father, sending them both crashing to the ground. 

Rumplestiltskin hit hard, and the wind rushed out of his chest.  The impact brought back a rush of unpleasant memories, of pain and pressure and— _No._ The fae had been responsible for his pain then, and they were responsible for _this_ as well.  Grasping his anger tightly, Rumplestiltskin used it to focus his magic, sweeping his senses out over the subtle spell he knew was out there.  He didn’t pay any attention to the fact that he was still flat on his back on the shaking ground, just let his magic speed outwards and feed him information.  What he found, however, was worse than he feared. 

“Papa?” Bae was crouching over him and shaking his shoulder; figuring the spells out must have taken a moment longer than Rumplestiltskin expected.  He blinked. 

“Right here.” 

Quickly, Rumplestiltskin jumped to his feet, catching his balance carefully when the earth tried to leap out from under him again.  Bae followed suit, swaying precariously but not falling when the next jolt hit.  Again, Rumplestiltskin sent magic racing outwards, this time with more precision and less desperation, spreading his hands wide and absorbing the magic around him.  It stank of the fae, subtle and tricky, a titanium fist sheathed in a colorful silk glove.  And he wasn’t wrong. 

“What’s happening?” his son asked again. 

“What’s happening is that I’m a fool,” Rumplestiltskin spat.  “I should have killed that fae when I had the chance.”  

Had he killed her quickly, she might not have had the chance to unleash the magic that was going to destroy the castle and everything around them.  Probably. 

“What did she—?  Scratch that.  Can you stop it?” Bae asked. 

“No.” 

Given enough time, Rumplestiltskin was confident that he could unravel any magic, even clever and feisty fae spells that had been laid by someone who was probably eight or nine times his age.  But he already knew that it was too late to counter this spell; this bit of magic had been created long before he’d knocked that fae to the ground, waiting and ready and carefully crafted over hours of work.  And it was moving too fast to stop.  The walls around the courtyard were already starting to tremble ominously.  Dust was starting to fill the air, with the mortar between stones disintegrating quickly. 

“Great.  Then we need to get everyone out of here.”  His son spun away before Rumplestiltskin could get a word in.  “Philip, start people moving out of the courtyard.  Grimsby, clear everyone out of the castle and—” 

“Bring them here,” Rumplestiltskin cut in, foresight mixing with magic to warn him.  “There’s no time to get them away.  The moment they pass through those gates, the entire structure will collapse.” 

Bae went a little pale.  “You’re saying the courtyard is the safest place.” 

It obviously didn’t look safe, what with the walls shaking and dust starting to fly, along with random holes opening up in the ground while former prisoners screamed.  The world around them was coming apart at the seams, and human nature demanded that they _run_ , flee this apocalypse and get somewhere safe.  But that was the catch, wasn’t it?  Rumplestiltskin could read the magic well enough to know where running would lead, much though the terrified spinner in him agreed with the mob around them.  Soon enough, fear would make these people start to riot, and then anything he did would be too late. 

“No.  Nowhere is safe.  Not here.”  

There was always a possibility that the fae had wanted to play the trickster as much as she wanted to destroy them, and it was conceivably imaginable that the courtyard would remain safe.  That the shaking and rumbling and world-tearing-itself-apart feeling was just a _feeling_ , and that if they stayed put, everyone would be fine.  But Rumplestiltskin’s instincts insisted otherwise, told him that although the destruction wouldn’t begin here, it _would_ come.  What he could read of the magic in so little time was inconclusive.  Could he afford to take that chance? 

It probably wouldn’t kill him, and he could protect Bae from the destruction if need be.  Or he would whisk them both away to somewhere else in the blink of an eye.  Had he still been the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin would have done so already.  Baelfire might have objected, but by then it would have been too late.  But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t, and the magic within him demanded something more.  Something…responsible. 

There was the word, the price, that he’d avoided thinking of for so many weeks.  The cost he knew in his soul to be true, even whilst he’d tried to ignore it.  Rumplestiltskin _wasn’t_ a hero type, and he didn’t want to be.  He only wanted his family to be safe and happy.  He’d tried to die to make that happen, only to receive the unexpected gift of life…along with a burden he had never asked for.  Never imagined.  But here he was, and whatever he was, Rumplestiltskin only had one choice. 

Could he do it?  A bit over a hundred former prisoners plus Bae’s thirty or so soldiers made for a lot of people.  Rumplestiltskin had never really been one to bring others along when he felt the need to transport himself via magic, which meant the limit of people he had tried to teleport in the past was around ten, counting himself.  Of course, he’d moved larger groups from point A to point B in the past, usually more to demonstrate his power more than anything else.  Yet he’d never sent more than a dozen people anywhere, and here he was dealing with more than ten times that number. 

A low rumble started behind him; the castle was beginning to shake itself apart.  Rocks bounced off the ground, and someone screamed when they were hit. 

“If you’ve got a plan, Papa, now’s a real good time to execute,” Bae said, his voice rough with urgency. 

It was suicidal and stupid, but he had no choice.  Not if Rumplestiltskin wanted his son to ever speak to him again, or if he ever wanted the others in this stupid alliance to believe he was better than he’d been.  Gathering his magic, channeling his desperation and his love and even his fears into the thick threads surrounding the tightly clumped crowd, Rumplestiltskin turned to face his son.  His breathing was already slowing, and his shoulders growing tense with the strain, but he resolutely ignored the telltale signs of _too much_ and managed a tight smile.  The magic _could_ do this; that much he knew.  The only question was how well his human-for-the-first-time-in-centuries body would take the strain. 

“Hold on, Bae,” he said with a breathless laugh.  “This is going to be a rough ride.” 

Forget the horses.  Bae’s cavalry could get new ones, and this bottomless power of his was still constrained by the body in which its owner lived.  Rumplestiltskin’s head was starting to pound in tune with the waves of magic thrusting outwards from the dying castle, but the strands of his magic had almost wrapped around the entire crowd.  A little bit further, and he’d be ready.  Just a few more seconds.  The air around them shimmered slightly, and he heard more than one person shout a terrified warning.  His vision was starting to blur.  The last thing he registered was his son’s worried expression. 

“Papa, what are you—?” 

Baelfire didn’t finish the question before Rumplestiltskin’s magic snapped into place and he _tugged_ with all the strength he had _._   And then they were gone, leaving King Steffan’s collapsing castle behind.

 

****************

 

At the same time the fae’s magic raced outwards towards destruction, Regina teleported Emma, Hook, Robin, and herself into the Dark Castle’s courtyard.  They landed right next to a bubbling fountain—one Emma was certain hadn’t been working when they left—instead of inside the castle proper.The surrounding gardens and plant life looked better, too; trimmed nicely and vibrantly alive.  _At least we’re away from Maleficent.  She might not have died when I threw that sword at her, but I’m not sure it didn’t make her crazy,_ Emma thought to herself.  Then again, she had no frame of reference.  Maleficent might have been that way all along. 

Regina certainly hadn’t seemed surprised by her conduct, anyway. 

“I thought you were going to bring us inside, love?” Robin asked, and Emma marveled at the way Regina didn’t snap at him.  The outlaw really _was_ someone who could ask her anything, even questions that would have gotten Emma a surly and defensive response. 

“I was.”  Regina scowled, waving a hand at the castle while Emma felt her magic working.  “Rumplestiltskin must have reworked the defenses while we were gone.” 

_Typical.  I wonder if he did that just to be difficult, or if there was some other reason._   Despite everything that had happened, Emma was finding it hard to get over her old mistrust of Gold, or whatever he was calling himself these days.  She’d fought on his side a half dozen times, and knew that the wily old bastard was good to his word—but she also knew that he was a sneaky son of a bitch, and that he’d do things his way or not at all.  Emma hadn’t exactly been in the Enchanted Forest for long, but Robin and Hook had caught her up on current events while they’d been trucking towards the Forbidden Forest.  She wasn’t sure exactly what Gold’s current game was, but until she could figure it out, her ability to trust him was definitely going to be limited. 

“He told us not to come after you, you know,” she told Regina, figuring that the other woman ought to know. 

But Regina surprised her by shrugging.  “I _was_ fine.” 

 “Hindsight being what it is, he was probably right,” Hook replied, sounding unhappy to admit that Gold had been right about anything.  He might have sworn off vengeance, but Emma knew that didn’t mean that the pirate captain had to _like_ Rumplestiltskin.  “Yet we had no way of knowing that at the time.” 

“If there’s one thing I know about Rumplestiltskin, it’s that he has a depressing habit of being right,” Regina replied.  “But don’t you _dare_ tell him I said that.” 

Emma snickered, but she was soon distracted by shouting. 

“Mom!  _Mom!_ ” 

She and Regina spun together, and both rushed forward to embrace Henry.  A few years earlier, they would have both been furious to have to share this moment, but now it just felt right.  Somehow, the idea of sort of sharing her kid with Regina had become just a part of life, so after a moment, Emma stepped back and let the Evil Queen embrace Henry alone.  The last twenty-two days had been the longest she’d been away from Henry since Regina had stopped Pan’s curse—but how badly must _Regina_ had missed him over the last year?  Emma knew they’d hardly had any time together before Regina disappeared, the older woman’s love for Henry no longer seemed like a threat.  

“You found her!” Henry beamed at Emma. 

“Yeah, well, she kind of found us, too,” Emma admitted with a wry grin.  “It turns out that Regina didn’t need as much rescuing as we all thought.” 

“Then Grandpa Gold was right after all,” their son replied, earning himself a somewhat stricken look from Regina. 

“Grandpa Gold?” the Evil Queen echoed. 

Henry shrugged.  “It sounds better than Grandpa ‘Stiltskin.” 

That made both women laugh and exchange glances.  Even Robin chuckled, although Hook just looked bored.  Emma glanced at him for a moment, feeling herself flush red with embarrassment.  Even though she knew it had been Maleficent’s magic enhancing her attraction to the pirate and decreasing her inhibitions, Emma still couldn’t shake the memory of being out of control like that.   She knew that Hook didn’t hold it against her, and that he’d even tried to be gentlemanly about her half-mad advances, but in a lot of ways, that only made things worse.  Ever since having her heart broken, Emma had been so cautious with her feelings.  Having them ripped out from behind the walls she’d built and on display for all to see was unnerving, to say the least.  Particularly because she still wasn’t sure what she felt for Hook.  Maybe it was more than simple attraction, but maybe it wasn’t. 

Maybe Emma would be brave enough to figure that out after she managed to banish the memories of their time stuck in the forest.  Until then, she had work to do.  After all, Emma was the damn savior, and if Regina hadn’t needed saving, she was sure someone else would. 

“So, kid, what have we missed?” she asked Henry brightly. 

“You know, that’s the funny part.  The Blue Fairy came by, and…”

 

****************

 

Striding through the hallways of the Dark Castle with the old book in hand, Belle started planning how she was going to convince Snow that her family’s patron fairy was plotting to steal her grandson.  She’d walked up in the midst of Blue’s ‘private’ conversation with Henry, right before the fairy had tried to convince Henry that he had to go someplace safe without telling anyone in his family.  Was there another way to interpret that?  Belle didn’t think she was too influenced by Rumplestiltskin’s naked mistrust for all things fairy.  Blue _had_ left things out of what she’d told Henry.  Even Henry believed that the fairy had intentionally misled him, and that meant it wasn’t just Belle channeling Rumplestiltskin’s paranoia. 

Seeing Ruby in the hallway just outside the chambers Belle had given the Charmings, she paused to ask: “Where’s Snow?” 

“Talking to the Blue Fairy,” her friend replied with a shrug. 

“Right _now_?”  Belle’s heart plummeted. 

“Yeah.  Why’s that matter?” 

Belle bit back a groan.  “It’s just—oh, Ruby, this is bad.  The Blue Fairy tried to take Henry away, and now I know _why_ —but Snow’s going to believe her over me.” 

“You don’t know that,” Ruby replied, but it was obviously an automatic reassurance.  “Wait a minute— _what_ did you say?  She tried to take _Henry?_ ” 

“I’m not sure she wouldn’t have whisked him away if I hadn’t walked in when I did,” she said with a nod, staring at the door in distress and trying to marshal coherent arguments.  Snow had spent her entire life believing in the Blue Fairy, and Belle had foolishly let Blue get in first while she’d stopped to do research.  How could she convince Snow that Blue was _lying_? 

Thankfully, Ruby believed in Belle, and always had.  Belle wasn’t sure how they’d become such good friends in Storybrooke, but they had, and Ruby immediately moved towards the door to Snow’s chambers.  “Then let’s go in there and tell Snow.” 

“Ruby—” Belle supposed she’d been raised too much of a lady, the daughter of a landed knight who would never so much as imagine bursting into a queen’s chambers uninvited, even if said queen had been just an elementary school teacher in Storybrooke.  Good manners demanded that they at least _knock_ first!  Ruby, however, had no such compunctions, and besides, she’d known Snow when Snow was nothing but an outlaw on the run.  So, Ruby shoved the door open and marched in, with Belle helplessly trailing behind her. 

The Blue Fairy was in midsentence when they burst in.  “…afraid that Rumplestiltskin would—” 

_That_ hadn’t been what Belle had expected to hear.  Why would Blue bring her love into this? 

“Rumplestiltskin would what?” she demanded before she could stop herself. 

“Belle, Ruby, what are you doing here?” Snow’s eyes were wide and shocked; she’d probably expected more decorum out of them, too. 

But Belle didn’t miss the way the Blue Fairy’s eyes _narrowed_ at the intrusion, anger flickering briefly across her face before her customarily lofty expression replaced it.  Oh, Blue wasn’t happy to have Belle in the room, which meant that she was trying to feed Snow some lie about Henry.  The old book was still clutched in Belle’s hand, and even though her heart was pounding in her ears louder than she’d like, she squared her shoulders.  _Do the brave thing_.  Belle respected Snow enormously, but that didn’t mean Snow wasn’t wrong to trust Blue. 

Belle sucked in a deep breath.  “I need to talk to you, Snow.  About Henry.” 

“About _Henry?_ ” Snow echoed in confusion. 

“Yes.”  Unable to help herself, Belle shot a look towards Blue.  The fairy’s lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed, and she glared back at Belle from behind a facial expression that clearly tried to be neutral.  She didn’t look very benevolent at the moment, but Belle was certain that if Snow glanced Blue’s way, the senior fairy would manage to appear perfectly normal.  “I wandered into the middle of a conversation I’m sure I wasn’t meant to hear.  In which the Blue Fairy tried to convince Henry to leave with her.  Without telling anyone.” 

“That can’t be—Blue?” Snow twisted to look at the fairy, and sure enough she had a compassionate expression on her face again. 

“Of course it isn’t, child.  I am afraid that Belle must have misunderstood.  I _am_ concerned for Henry, because he is in great danger.  Henry’s heart _is_ special, and I hate to say it, but Pan is not the only one who is going to want it.” 

“Like you,” Belle cut in before Snow could reply, dropping the book on the table in front of Snow and flipping it open to the right page.  “Read this, Snow.  She’s lying to you.  And she’s been lying for _years_.” 

Blue’s eyes went wide.  “I haven’t—” 

“Regina’s back,” Ruby said, standing by the window that overlooked the outer courtyard.  Belle had given Snow and Charming this room because it was the nicest set of chambers outside Rumplestiltskin’s own, and the gigantic windows provided an excellent view of the gardens that lay between the castle and the outermost walls.  Those gardens were in far better repair now that Rumplestiltskin’s magic had had a chance to do a bit of work on them, but even wild and overgrown, these chambers had been the some of the best.  “Robin, Hook, and Emma are with her—and there goes Henry.” 

Belle stepped up next to her friend to look out the window, watching Henry rush out to meet his two mothers, both of whom hugged him tight.  The sight made her grin, not just because she’d acquired a surprising amount of respect for the Evil Queen who’d once locked her away, but also because Blue’s plans had just been gloriously upended.  _She’s never going to steal Henry away with_ both _of his mothers back at the castle!_ Still smiling, Belle turned back to watch as Snow picked the book up, reading swiftly.  The dark circles under her eyes and the stress Belle knew she was under had done nothing to hinder the young queen’s intelligence, and her eyes were narrow when she looked up at the Blue Fairy again. 

“Is this true?” Snow asked Blue. 

“Child, I have been working for millennia to keep darkness at bay.  I will _protect_ your grandson, not endanger him.” 

“At what cost?” Snow demanded, and Belle’s breath caught.   “You’ll keep him from his family.  Will you use his heart?”   

“At whatever cost is necessary,” the Blue Fairy answered stiffly.  Snow glared. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I will keep Henry _safe_.  There is—” 

“ _Whoa,_ ” Ruby gasped.  “Holy cow—there’s like a hundred people in the courtyard now.  Maybe more.” 

Belle’s head snapped around, and her jaw dropped.  While Regina, Robin, Hook, and Emma had been alone in the courtyard moments earlier, now they were accompanied by hundreds of other people.  Most of the newcomers were bedraggled and filthy, but Regina’s hands were up and Belle could almost see the magic in the air—until someone stepped out of the crowd to stop her. 

Rumplestiltskin.  Belle blinked in confusion.  She was happy to see him, but what _had_ the infuriating man done this time?

 

****************

 

“Regina!” Rumplestiltskin’s shout barely caught the Evil Queen in time; Bae saw her hands moving in a blur, already glowing dark purple and sparking slightly.  Their crowd of people seemed to have landed almost on top of her, but Regina was clearly ready for anything.  However, even as Bae watched Regina pull the magic back, he stumbled dizzily.  He still felt like he was stuck in the vortex of magic that had ripped them out of— 

_Damn._ A moment ago, Bae had been standing next to his father in the wildly crumbling courtyard of King Stefan’s castle, just waiting for the world to drop on their heads.  Now he was standing in the courtyard of the Dark Castle, along with absolutely everyone else.  The realization made him blink hard; what had his father said about this being a rough ride?  Spinning left, he turned to stare at Rumplestiltskin, just as Regina shoved her way through the crowd to them. 

“Papa?” he asked, feeling a little confused.  The dizziness was receding, but Bae still felt like part of his body had been left behind a hundred-and-something miles away. 

“What the _hell_ did you do?” Regina demanded at the same time. 

Even as Rumplestiltskin smiled, Bae could see that something was wrong.  His movements were sluggish when he waved a hand in the air, growing paler by the second.   “Don’t ask questions to which you don’t want to know the answers, dearie.” 

Then Rumplestiltskin collapsed before Bae could catch him.  He and Regina both lunged to try, bumping shoulders as they did so, but neither made it in time and Rumplestiltskin hit the ground hard, his head cracking dully into the cobblestoned walkway.  They both knelt next to him, and Bae was relieved to see that his father was breathing just fine, even if he was as pale as a ghost and suddenly looked thinner than he had before.  _A glamour?  Damn him!_ How much else had Rumplestiltskin neglected to mention when he’d explained what had happened to himself?  Bae swore under his breath as the Evil Queen turned to glare at him. 

“Did he transport _all_ of you here?” 

“I think so, yeah—is he going to be all right?” 

Regina made a face.  “I have no idea.  That much magic—it shouldn’t be possible, even for him.  He’s unconscious.  I don’t know how long he’ll be out for.”  

“Neal?”  A third voice interjected before Bae could reply, followed hard on the heels by: 

“Dad?” 

He was on his feet before he even knew he was moving, but a smaller body collided with his own immediately, almost knocking Bae back to the ground.  A strangled laugh burst out of his chest when Bae realized his arms were full of his son.  Oh, he’d missed them desperately, Henry and Emma both, and had tried so hard to make himself _not_ think about them all the time, to distract himself with battles and anything and everything else.  His father had told him that Emma had gone off to foolishly try to rescue Regina—something that had worked out one way or another, judging from the Evil Queen’s presence—but Bae had been on pins and needles waiting to see them himself, even if he’d tried to pretend he wasn’t. 

And now here was Henry, beaming up at him.  Damn, the kid looked older, and different, too, dressed like he belonged in the Enchanted Forest and not in the modern world.  Emma approached more cautiously, smiling that crooked smile of hers that he’d always loved so much.  She was wearing what looked like Snow’s clothes, too, a somewhat feminine outfit in beige and black that still gave her freedom of movement.  It looked _fantastic_ on her, too, though Bae knew better than to tell her that.  _Not in public, anyway.  Even in private, she’d probably hit me._   Still, looking at her hesitant smile made him grin.  But he needed to say hi to his kid, first. 

“Hey, Henry,” Bae said.  Had his father felt so woefully inadequate greeting him after not having seen his son for a year?  That was an unsettling thought.  Of course, thinking of his father made Bae look down guiltily, his heart leaping into his chest.  Rumplestiltskin still lay on the ground, unmoving. 

Regina must have seen him swallow, because the Evil Queen met his eyes with a crooked smile of her own.  “We’ll take him inside,” she volunteered. 

“Thanks,” Bae breathed. 

“What happened to Grandpa Gold?” Henry asked before Regina could rise.  He was looking at Bae, but Regina replied first: 

“Too much magic.”  She grimaced.  “He should know better, but he shouldn’t have been _able_ to transport that many people, either.” 

“Will he be okay?” 

Henry’s eyes were big with worry, so Bae squeezed his shoulder.  “He’s tough, bud.  He’ll be fine.” 

Regina met his eyes briefly and nodded, making relief flood Bae’s s system. Wouldn’t it be a great cosmic irony if he gained some family back only to lose his father again?  _Stop thinking like that,_ Bae told himself firmly, flashing Regina a grateful smile as she rose, levitating Rumplestiltskin with the flick of her wrist.  She headed towards the castle as Emma fell into step beside Bae and Henry.  Meanwhile, Bae threw Prince Philip a glance, and was gratified when Philip started organizing the refugees.  Bae probably _should_ have dealt with them himself, but his father was unconscious, he hadn’t seen his kid in a year, and he _really_ wasn’t up to dealing with stuck up royals at the moment.  Thankfully, Philip seemed to understand that, and the prince got straight to work.  

He, Henry, and Emma trailed Regina in silence for several moments before Emma finally spoke up.  “So, uh, interesting day, huh?” 

“You can say that again,” Bae replied.  Damn, he was tired.  At least that was the excuse he wanted to use when he blurted out: “The Enchanted Forest looks good on you.” 

Emma blinked.  “Huh?” 

“The clothes, I mean.  You look like you belong here.”  _Way to go, Bae.  You sound like a moron, and she’s spent how many weeks with the most suave pirate in existence?_ This was definitely not helping his case.  He flushed.  “I think I’m trying to say welcome back.” 

“Thanks, I think.”  But at least Emma smiled, and she didn’t look at Bae like he was stupid.  Then again, she’d seen him sleep deprived and absolutely ridiculously brainless, living out of a car and dodging the law, so this couldn’t be much of a surprise to her.  

“Just back from rescuing Regina?” he asked, trying to sound a bit more intelligent.  Or at least well-informed. 

It was Emma’s turn to grimace.  “It turns out she didn’t really need _rescuing._   And that Maleficent was screwing with us.  Until Regina stopped her, anyway.  It was kind of embarrassing, to be honest.” 

Unable to stop himself, Bae laughed.  “Don’t feel bad.  Stuff always turns out that way around here.”  He’d almost used a stronger word than ‘stuff’, but their thirteen year old was walking between them and hanging on every word.  “If it makes you feel any better, I spent a month chasing a pack of chimeras around, only to find out that they weren’t real at all—they were just a spell of illusions cooked up by the Witch to keep us busy.” 

“Not really, no,” Emma replied with an answering laugh, and Bae congratulated himself for at least providing some amusement.  

“So, where have you been, anyway, Dad?” Henry piped up.  “Aside from chasing fake chimeras.” 

“I’ve been fighting the war, actually.  Commanding armies and stuff.  With your other grandfather.” 

“That’s so cool.”  

_That’s my boy!_ Emma didn’t look enthused by Henry’s opinion, but Bae’s son was grinning.  However, the responsible parent in Baelfire kicked in enough for him to say: “Sometimes.  Other time it just sucks.  I always figured war here would be more honorable than it was back in the Land Without Magic, but so far it’s just been a slugging match.” 

_And I really_ hate _slugging matches._ Bae had gotten into enough of those back in Neverland as a teen, both with Pan and with various other Lost Boys.  It had never been fun or honorable, and everyone always wound up getting hurt in the end.  This war wasn’t shaping up to be much different from those experiences, despite the fact that they’d managed to pull off a string of victories lately.  They were still missing something.  Every instinct Bae had insisted that the worst was yet to come, and he really hoped his father would wake up soon so that he could ask him if he felt the same way.  _I suppose having an old man who can see the future ought to be useful for something.  Why didn’t I ask him that earlier today when I had the chance?_  

“Well, things always get worse right before they get better, right?” Henry asked, and damn Bae had missed his son’s simple optimism and faith.  _He must get that from Snow.  My side of the family is too cynical by half, and Emma takes after David in that regard._   Still, Bae managed a half smile. 

“I hope so, bud.  So, why don’t you tell me what the last year’s been like for the two of you while I’ve been marching around in the mud?” 

Henry rolled his eyes.  “School and stuff.  It was boring, really.” 

“It was normal, he means,” Emma interjected with a hard look at their kid.  “And now it’s all weird.  We both remember things that never happened.”  Her confident expression wavered slightly.  “Like, I remember giving Henry up.  And I remember deciding not to.  I remember changing his diapers—but I _know_ Reginadid that.  It’s all so…I don’t know what it is.” 

“Frustrating?” 

Emma grimaced.  “Worse.”  Then, without warning, she poked Bae hard in the shoulder.  “I actually think you’re the only one who _doesn’t_ have dual memories, now.  How’d you get off scot free?” 

“Oh, you know.”  He shrugged.  “Spent two-plus centuries in Neverland.  Walk in the park.  No big deal.” 

“How’d you not go crazy being there so long?” Henry wanted to know. 

_Who says I didn’t?_ But that wasn’t the kind of thing you discussed with your own kid; Bae had a hard enough time dealing with it himself sometimes.  He’d certainly come out of Neverland with enough emotional scars to sink a battleship, but he’d mostly dealt with those issues years earlier.  “You come from stubborn stock.” 

“I already knew that,” Henry laughed. 

“Tell me about it,” Emma breathed at the same time, rolling her eyes.  “And you’d better not say that you mean me by that, Neal Cassidy!” 

He chuckled, and then braced himself.  Bae didn’t really know how Emma was going to take this, but hell.  They were in the Enchanted Forest, not New York City!  “Actually, I go by Baelfire these days.  Or Bae, for short.” 

Emma stopped cold, turning to stare at him.  “…Really?” 

Bae shrugged, feeling acutely uncomfortable.  “It kind of is my name, you know.” 

“I know.  I just…wow.  That’s, uh, different.” 

“Good different or bad different?” he managed to ask lightly, trying not to sound nervous.  It was stupid that something so small as a name might come between them, but Emma had fallen for Neal Cassidy before he’d screwed it all up.  He was still hopelessly in love with her, and absolutely _clung_ to what she’d said in Neverland about always loving him (even if she didn’t want to; he could deal with that.  Bae could convince her to _want_ to, assuming Emma gave him the chance).  But would his acceptance of his old Enchanted Forest identity drive her away?  Bae wanted to think that Emma was made of stronger stuff than that, but the last thirteen years really had been a roller coaster for her.

“Just different,” Emma replied, and of course Henry piped up to break up the suddenly awkward moment: 

“Does that make you General Baelfire instead of General Cassidy, then?” 

Bae laughed.  “Yeah, I guess it does.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and comments are cookies (and yes, I do love me some cookies. Why do you ask?). My questions this time around are: 1) What do you think the fae, particularly the Black Fairy are up to and 2) Do you think Maleficent’s understanding with Regina extends to help against their new array of enemies?
> 
> Next up is Chapter 16: “Choices Made”, when Rumplestiltskin wakes up, Blue owes some explanations, and the entire family sits down for a chat.


	17. Choices Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which explanations are offered, the Blue Fairy tells a few truths, and the balance of power starts to shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new scene has been added to the end of the prologue - if you're not a new reader as of 5 March, please check it out!

**_Chapter Sixteen—“Choices Made”_ **

 

Their bedchamber had become very crowded since Regina had delivered Rumplestiltskin to his and Belle’s bed.  The Evil Queen had exchanged a knowingly exasperated look with Belle as she did so, explaining that Rumplestiltskin had managed to knock himself out by using too much magic.  Bae, arriving with Emma and Henry, clarified exactly what Rumplestiltskin had done this time, and while Belle was so very proud of him for saving that many lives, she really wished he’d found a less dramatic and less personally damaging way to do so.  Now, Rumplestiltskin lay pale and unmoving on the bed while other people filed in. 

Belle was tempted to kick most of them out.  She knew how Rumplestiltskin valued his privacy, knew how much he often _hated_ sharing his castle with the Grand Alliance, much less his own private chambers.  However, the crowd was growing more quickly than she could decide who to eject.  Regina had sent Ruby to find Tink, so Philip had crept in when the door opened; he was now in one corner talking urgently with Baelfire.  Hook and Robin lurked near the door, with Hook watching Emma hopefully and Robin heading over to join Regina as she stepped back from Belle’s side.  Having the outlaw there didn’t bother Belle, but why would Hook feel the need to watch over a man they all knew he still hated? 

Thankfully, Ruby returned faster than expected.  Belle’s relief died when she spotted the frown on her friend’s face, though, which was explained when the Blue Fairy followed Tink into the room.  Snow entered last of all, but at least _she_ looked concerned.  Blue’s face was unreadable, but was that a glint of fear in her eyes? 

Tink started to move forward, only to have the senior fairy step in her way, wand in hand. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Regina asked before Belle could protest. 

A suspiciously angry twitch started in Blue’s cheek, but her expression turned typically maternal when everyone looked at her.  “Helping, of course.” 

“I’m pretty damn sure that Rumplestiltskin doesn’t want _your_ help.” 

 Belle could have hugged Regina for that, and shot the Evil Queen a smile from where she sat on the bed at Rumplestiltskin’s side.  Truth be told, he probably didn’t want even Tink’s magic near him, given how he felt about fairies, but Belle figured Tinker Bell was the lesser of the two evils.  At least Rumplestiltskin had worked with Tink a dozen times over the past few weeks, and hadn’t complained too much about her. 

But the Blue Fairy didn’t bother to reply, instead flicking her wand in Rumplestiltskin’s direction before anyone could stop her.  A slight glow enveloped both her wand and the sorcerer immediately, blue and shimmering, working its way over Rumplestiltskin from head to toe.  Regina started to snarl something, and might have acted were it not for the way absolutely comical shock suddenly colored Blue’s features.  Eyes wide, the senior fairy lowered her wand in a jerky, startled motion, and the magic tapered off. 

Belle, however, didn’t care what stopped Blue, and Bae clearly didn’t, either, because he pushed through the crowd to stand at Belle’s side.  “Don’t you _ever_ do that again,” she growled. 

“I…” Blue blinked rapidly, staring at Rumplestiltskin like she’d never seen him before. 

Suddenly, the hand Belle held in her own twitched, and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flew open.  “Surprised, dearie?” he asked Blue. 

A stunned moment of silence passed. 

“Your curse _is_ broken.” 

“You just now figured that out?” Bae demanded, glaring at Blue before he glanced down at his father without bothering to wait for the shaken fairy to reply.  Belle was so relieved to see his concern, so glad to see that the chasm between them had finally mended once and for all.  “You okay, Papa?” 

Rumplestiltskin sat up.  “I’m fine, Bae.” 

Immediately, Belle watched his gaze flick around the room, taking in the crowd with a slight frown.  From the way his eyes narrowed slightly, she could tell he wasn’t happy, but he wouldn’t show weakness by complaining.  No, he’d file this away like he did any other grudge, save it and wait for his anger to die of old age.  Or maybe he’d stuff it and mount it on the wall afterwards; Belle had seen Rumplestiltskin do worse.  Surprisingly, however, his focus returned to Blue, just as Belle almost opened her mouth to tell her love what the fairy had been up to concerning Henry.  However, Rumplestiltskin got in first. 

“No need to look so delighted, _Reul Ghorm_ ,” he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word. 

The fairy frowned but said nothing, and everyone watched the silent interplay between Blue and the former Dark One.  A thousand and one things hung unsaid in the air between them, and even Belle only had an inkling about what was going on.  The silence stretched onwards, heavy with meaning and…what?  Finally, Snow cleared her throat. 

“Blue?” the Queen asked hesitantly.  _Of course she’ll ask her.  Blue didn’t even manage to rationalize why she wants Henry, and Snow still wants to trust her._ “What’s going on?” 

“Oh, yes.  Why don’t you tell her the truth?” Rumplestiltskin put in, now on his feet and standing between Belle and Bae.  “I’m already gathering that you’re just as happy as your sister is with the fact that my curse is broken.”  His eyes flashed, and the frown twisted into a vicious smirk.  “This might perhaps be the moment for you to tell our friends that Danns' a'Bhàis has escaped her exile.” 

“Who?” several people asked, and Belle’s heart sank. 

She’d read that book months ago, and she could figure it out from context— 

“The Black Fairy,” Rumplestiltskin answered cooly, his eyes still on Blue. 

“That’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment,” the senior fairy shot back, finally goaded into replying.  Her eyes flashed furiously.  “ _You_ have not been honest, either.” 

A low chuckle.  “Have I not?” 

“That curse was _designed_ not to be broken.” 

“And now everything hidden behind it has bubbled to the surface.”  He smiled nastily.  “Not quite what your sister planned, I know.” 

Belle’s heart was beating very fast.  The old book was still sitting on the bedside table where she’d dropped it when Regina brought Rumplestiltskin in.  Hints in half a dozen other books suddenly all coalesced with the information she’d read months ago, and suddenly everything made sense.  Her head snapped around to stare at her love, but he only raised an eyebrow.  Belle burned to ask if she was right, and if his power came from where she thought it did, but the blasé look on Rumplestiltskin’s face answered her question.  She could _feel_ the balance of power shifting. 

“What _are_ you two talking about?” Snow cut in again.  “Blue.  Explain, if you would.” 

Apparently, even fairies didn’t argue with that imperious tone, at least not if they wanted Snow’s cooperation any time soon.  The Blue Fairy sighed, gesturing calmingly to placate the queen. 

“When the Black Fairy created the curse of the Dark One, she forced and elemental demon of darkness into the soul of humanity’s most powerful sorcerer,” Blue started, her superior expression back.  “She structured a curse around that, so that the darkness in that sorcerer’s power would be passed down, yet always tainted by evil and rage that it could not escape.  Even in death, the power would transfer to whomever killed the sorcerer, ensuring that the curse itself would survive.  Throughout the centuries, those who became the Dark One sought the power for its own sake, and were forever tainted by that evil.  Most were controlled by another, but always unable to resist the Black Fairy’s call—no matter who held the dagger, _she_ could call it, and the Dark One.  

“Some called it the perfect curse, the corruption of a human into a monster.  For over one thousand five hundred years, the curse of the Dark One endured, with the demon all but un-slayable.  Only the dagger that ensured the continuation of the curse itself could kill the Dark One, ensuring that the Black Fairy would always have a servant to call upon.  Nineteen human men and women took on that curse or had it thrust upon them, each darker and more dangerous than the last, because curses grow over time.  They terrorized the world, and it was all the fairies could do to contain them.  Yet that was not enough.  The Black Fairy built in other safeguards.  She built the curse to resist even True Love’s kiss, for a soul so corrupted by darkness does not want to be free. 

“However…she did not count on a Dark One who took on the curse, and the powers, to protect his only child.  Or one who would sacrifice himself to save those he loved.” 

Rumplestiltskin shifted slightly; Belle could feel his discomfort.  Bae glanced his way, his face softening, but Rumplestiltskin’s own expression simply closed off.  To Blue’s credit, she continued firmly: 

“That sacrifice broke the curse, and broke the…power free of the darkness as well.” 

 _Merlin’s power_ , Belle knew without asking.  The Blue Fairy was carefully _not_ using the name of humanity’s most legendary sorcerer, and knowing Rumplestiltskin, he wouldn’t mention that, either.  He always liked to be underestimated, and Blue was obviously worried about saying too much. 

Why wasn’t she happy that Rumplestiltskin’s curse was broken?  Shouldn’t she be?  Belle felt her eyes narrowing as she studied the fairy.  _Not_ having the Dark One in the world had to be a good thing for everyone.   Although Rumplestiltskin had sometimes succeeded in fighting the darkness back (at least compared to some of the things he’d told Belle his predecessors had done), he’d still been a creature of darkness, and really hadn’t cared to stop himself much of the time.  A world where that horrible curse was broken was certainly better off, and by all rights, Blue should be _delighted_ about that. 

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t expected her to be happy, Belle recalled.  She’d have to ask him about that later. 

Snow, however, was still watching Blue with those same hard eyes, though her demeanor had softened slightly once Blue started offering explanations.  “So what now?” 

It was Rumplestiltskin who answered, getting in before Blue and earning himself a glare from the senior fairy. 

“We defeat the Witch,” he said bluntly, and then twirled a hand to emphasize his next point, his expression devoid of the nasty amusement he usually greeted the world with.  “That won’t be the end of this, of course.  The Black Fairy is still waiting in the wings, using the Witch for her own ends.  I’m sure she’ll have something to say before this war is over.  And then, one of these days, Reul Ghorm and I will have a little chat about her sister.” 

That last sentence hit hard; Blue’s face twisted in fury and her composure shattered.  She took several steps forward, pointing a rigid finger at Rumplestiltskin from only a few feet away.  Normally the maternal and kind sort, Blue’s wrath was something to behold.  She _radiated_ power when angry, and Belle saw several people shiver, stepping away from the fairy.  _Original powers,_ Belle reminded herself, fighting back the urge to swallow.  _Just because she plays at being nice doesn’t mean she is.  Or that she_ ever _has been._  

“Curse or no, you may still be her creature!” Blue snarled. 

Rumplestiltskin closed the distance between them, stopping right in front of her and looking her in the eye.  “Dearie, I’m no one’s creature, least of all Danns' a'Bhàis.”  He smiled lazily.  “Or yours.” 

“The day will come when you’re going to have to choose a side,” the Blue Fairy told him, her eyes still ablaze and every rigid line of her body exuding magic. 

“I already have.”  

His quiet voice and slight smirk made for a heady contrast with Blue’s obvious fury, but Rumplestiltskin’s eyes were dancing just as dangerously.  Belle knew that he was at his most threatening when he was quiet; he only yelled when he was in a temper, and it was the soft spoken, methodical _planner_ that people had to fear.  His whispers were more dangerous than anyone else’s shouts, and Rumplestiltskin looked down at the fairy derisively.  Finally, he smiled.

“Now get out of my castle before I prove that I _can_ throw you out.”

In a flash of light, Blue turned fairy sized again, still only inches away from Rumplestiltskin’s face and glaring at him.  “We are not finished.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed softly.  “Indeed we are not.”

Reul Ghorm left slowly, but leave she did, her face the picture of serenity and grace.  She did, however, cast a glance over her shoulder at Tinker Bell as she headed for the suddenly open door to the balcony.  The green fairy stared back at her steadily, her expression as shocked as everyone else’s, but making no move to follow her superior.  Pausing just inside the doorway, the Blue Fairy spoke once more.

"Come, Green.  We are not wanted here.”

Perhaps it was the use of her old name.  Perhaps it was something else.  But Tinker Bell straightened, her shoulders rolling back proudly as she frowned.  “No thanks.  I’ll stay.”

It seemed that Reul Ghorm had nothing to say to that, for she flew out the open door and left.

 

****************

 

Once the Blue Fairy left, shooing out anyone who wasn’t family was straightforward.  Belle didn’t explain her reasoning, but the look on _Snow’s_ face, of all people, said that this was important, and for Regina, that was enough.  _I wanted to ruin her life not too many years ago, and now I’m trusting her.  Isn’t this just a royally screwed up world?_ She accepted a quick kiss on the cheek from Robin when Belle threw the outlaw a look that said he wasn’t welcome; normally, Regina would object to that, but the situation had gone from serious to dangerous in the blink of an eye, so she smiled at her lover and sent him on his way.  Besides, Roland hadn’t seen his father in almost three weeks, and that was reason enough to send Robin elsewhere. 

She did smirk, however, when Hook objected to being shut out.  The pirate had even less claim to be there than Robin did, but he’d thrown Emma a pleading look that Snow’s daughter promptly ignored.  Regina planned on staying well clear of the messed up love triangle that Emma had found herself in—unless it started to impact Henry, in which case she’d have no problem telling all three participants to pull their heads out and behave like adults.  At least the tempest seemed to have calmed down to a minor rainstorm for the moment, or Emma was just plain irritated enough to ignore both of her potential lovers.  Either way, things seemed quiet on that front, and she was glad.  Regina really couldn’t deal with Hook and Baelfire fighting over Emma.  She already had enough of a headache.

Henry sat down between her and Emma, who, interestingly enough, sat next to Baelfire, who the idiot savior was still insisting on calling Neal.   _Next you know, she’ll be calling her mother Mary Margaret._ Regina tried not to snort out loud, but Henry definitely noticed her amusement. 

“Something funny, Mom?” Henry asked her, and Regina smiled, wrapping an arm around her boy.

“Just life, sweetie.”

“How is dear Maleficent?” Rumplestiltskin drawled as Hook, the last one out, shut the door.  The question earned him several dirty looks—Regina wasn’t the only one in the room who would like a few more explanations than the Blue Fairy had offered—but no one interjected, so she laughed.  She knew how the game was played, and she and Rumple had been dancing around most of these people for years.

“She says the fae are back,” Regina replied lightly.  “And that she might be willing to help us against them.”

“Oh, so now you believe,” her old mentor snorted.

Regina smiled sweetly.  “I needed to hear it from a more credible source than you.”

“Of  _course_ you did, dearie.”  But several people snickered now, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t look offended.  Why would he?  They’d made trusting and mistrusting one another their lives’ work, and besides, Regina hadn’t actually  _disbelieved_ him, or at least not lately.  Once Rumplestiltskin proved that he’d come out of his ordeal more or less intact, Regina wasn’t foolish enough to doubt the first-rate brain hidden inside his skull.  She’d never thought the man was stupid, after all.  Rather the opposite, in fact.  He’d always been far too smart.

“So,” she asked with studied disinterest, turning to glance out the open balcony door as she spoke, and wondering about which side Rumplestiltskin claimed to have chosen, “which sorcerer?”

“Come again?”

She shot him a hard look.  “Don’t try that, Rumple.  You know what I mean.”

“I’m certain that I haven’t a faint idea of what you’re talking about.”

_Oh, yes.  You’re certain you have no_ idea  _what I’m talking about.  Clever bastard and your wordsmithing.  You don’t have a faint_ idea.    _You know._   But was it worthwhile to press the point when he was so obviously reluctant to say?  The fragile peace between them didn’t always leave room for unwelcome truths, and wherever Rumplestiltskin’s powers came from, he had an awful lot of them.  For once, however, Regina was inclined to believe that was a good thing.  He wasn’t her enemy, anymore; he was an ally who was suddenly able to bully the world’s most annoying bug into leaving.  Anyone who could do that immediately earned a lot of points in Regina’s book. 

And he was her son’s grandfather, which counted for a lot in this world, too.  Particularly given the array of enemies they seemed to be assembling.  When she added to that what Henry had started trying to tell her before Rumplestiltskin and company had shown up, Regina was happy to let Rumplestiltskin have his secrets.  He did seem to have a habit of coming through when it counted, anyway.

“Of course you don’t,” Regina replied neutrally, wondering if someone else would pick up the line of questioning.  If they were lucky, it’d be Belle, and he might actually answer  _her_ .  The man was utterly besotted, after all.

Who was she kidding?  Belle was no fool, either.  She’d ask him in private.  The younger woman did, however, choose that moment to speak up about something else after exchanging yet another ominous glance with Snow.   _What_ is  _it between those two?  Snow’s never been Rumple’s greatest fan, so it’s got to be important if it has her conspiring with Belle, of all people._

“There’s something else we need to worry about,” Belle interjected bluntly.  “I discovered it earlier today after the Blue Fairy tried to, um, convince Henry to leave with her.”

“She  _what_ ?”  Under other circumstances, Regina might have been insulted to be shouting in synch with Emma Swan, but given that it was their son Belle was talking about, she didn’t give a damn.  She did, however, twist to stare at Henry.

Their boy nodded.  “Everyone was gone except Grandma Snow and Belle, and I think Blue thought that was a great time to convince me.  She started talking about how everyone wanted my heart because I’m still the Truest Believer, and said that she had somewhere safe for me.”

“Because that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”  Surprisingly the sarcasm came from Baelfire and not Emma, though Emma added:

“Why wouldn’t she talk to any of us, first?”

“Because she wasn’t telling the whole truth,” Belle answered.  Regina’s eyes narrowed.

“Henry, what did the Blue Fairy say to you?  Exactly?” she asked, feeling rage boil up under the surface.  Rage made for potent magic, she’d always known.  Would it be potent enough to kill that annoying insect?  She was willing to bet that she and Rumplestiltskin could do it together, and judging from the look on his face, he’d be more than willing to help.

“That someone—probably the Black Fairy—wanted my heart in order to control everyone in the Enchanted Forest,” he answered with a frown.  “The Blue Fairy said she needed to take me away right then so that I’d be safe, but I could tell she wasn’t telling the whole truth.  Belle came in, though, and the Blue Fairy didn’t stick around much after that.”

“What?” Now it was Emma’s turn to snarl.  “I thought we were done with that.”  She twisted to look at Rumplestiltskin.  “Pan  _is_ dead, right?  You being alive doesn’t mean he is, does it?”

_Someone really needs to pay more attention in her magic lessons,_ Regina thought to herself, watching Rumplestiltskin’s face tighten.

“No, it doesn’t, and yes, he is.”

“Then why are we back to this Heart of the Truest Believer crap?” Emma demanded, and now Regina didn’t bother to hide her own frustrations.

“Because it’s  _magic_ ,” she snapped.  “Magic that works for one person can work for someone else, the Black Fairy as well as Pan.”   _Except—wait a minute—_

Baelfire looked at his father, catching the inconsistency in Regina’s argument immediately.  “The Black Fairy doesn’t need immortality, so why would she want Henry’s heart?”

“I expect because Reul Ghorm wants it herself.”  The quiet response made Belle turn to look at Rumplestiltskin in surprise.

“You know?”

He gestured vaguely.  “Let’s just say that some memories are starting to bubble to the surface.”

“Memories?” Regina asked before she could stop herself, and then shook her head.  He obviously wasn’t going to tell her, and they had more important things to worry about.  “Never mind that.  Back to Henry.  Why does the Blue Insect want his heart?”

“Regina,” Snow chided her gently, but she thought she saw a bit of laughter dancing in her stepdaughter’s eyes.  Emma certainly was amused, as was Henry, but Rumplestiltskin’s face was hard to read, and Baelfire only frowned.  Belle, however, continued:

“I’m exactly not sure.  But I found this old book”—she held up a ratty old volume, slender and well read, much to Regina’s utter lack of surprise—“that talks about the Heart of the Truest Believer.  It’s not just Henry.  There have been others throughout history, and the Heart is considered one of the most magical items in existence.  It can be used for a lot of things…none of which are really good for the person who the heart came out of.

“And…” Belle took a deep breath and glanced at Rumplestiltskin before continuing.  “The Blue Fairy has done it in the past.”

“Done  _what_ , exactly?” Regina asked when no one else would.   _Damn these people!_ Snow just looked sickened and disappointed, Rumplestiltskin didn’t look surprised in the slightest—though there was something dangerous lurking in his expression—and Emma and Baelfire looked as confused as Regina felt. 

“I’m not sure, exactly.”  Belle extended the book to her.  “Page seventy-nine.”

Resisting the urge to groan, Regina flipped the book open, noticing how the ancient pages crackled under her fingertips, and started to read.

… _When removed, it can grant a magic user eternal life, great power, or the ability to freeze time itself.  When inserted into_ another  _being, the Heart can be used to magically bind that being to whom took the Heart from its host.  It is said that both the Blue Fairy and the Black Fae committed themselves to great study of the Heart’s magic, discovering that if long life can be granted to the host, the Heart itself will continue to provide power for centuries.  Each captured and held at least one host during the first millennia of magic, testing both the limits of the power and its relation to the human host.  By this time, the rivalry between the two Original Fairies was fierce, and although both uncovered further powers of the Heart, those were kept secret by their respective followers lest the other discover them._

_Perhaps because of its great power, the Heart of the Truest Believer is the most uncommon of the incidental powers, appearing no more regularly than once per each century.  However, should the Host be killed before their time, should their lifespan be cut short by violence or trickery, another Heart of the Truest Believer will immediately manifest itself._

_It is said that the Heart is even powerful enough to trap one of the Original Powers.  However, since the number of original powers (even including the Elemental Demons) has sharply decreased since the origins of magic, the likelihood of a Heart being used for such a purpose has likewise diminished.  However, if placed inside one of the remaining Original Powers, it is theorized that the Heart might last as many as five centuries, allowing the Holder of the Heart to control even these most powerful of beings._

A chill ran down Regina’s spine as half-forgotten lessons tried to swim to the surface of her memories.  Regina had been too angry and too heartbroken to care about the history of magic as a young woman, and by the time she’d wished she had access to Rumplestiltskin’s vast library on the topic, they’d already become enemies of a sort.  Then, she’d been too proud to borrow books from him, and she’d been too busy during the last year, running from one crisis to the next and just trying to keep the Grand Alliance afloat.  But she  _did_ remember his initial lessons on the three sources of magic, and Regina did know enough to remember what the Original Powers were.

“This is maddeningly less than helpful,” she finally said, rereading the pertinent section with a frown.  Of course, the author changed topics just when the answer they needed might have been relevant, and yet… There was something she wasn’t seeing.  Something they  _all_ weren’t seeing. 

“We’ll have to ask her,” Snow said unhappily, obviously feeling betrayed.

“ _If_ she’ll tell us the truth,” Baelfire pointed out with a frown.  “And there’s no way she’s going to do that unless she thinks there’s something in it for her.  Like Henry’s heart”

“I don’t care  _what_ her reasoning is,” Emma snarled.  “She’s not getting Henry’s heart.”

“I think we can take that for granted,” Regina agreed, closing the book.  She looked directly at Rumplestiltskin; this much silence was unlike him, particularly since he was finding this out with the rest of them.  “So, how do we stop her?”

“Leave that to me,” he answered simply, and the sneer on his face was definitely encouraging.  Though she did have to wonder at his confidence—irritating insect or not, the damn fairy was powerful.

“Wait a minute,” Snow interjected.  “We have to  _talk_ to her first.  We can’t just—”

“The hell we can’t,” Regina cut her off, not really caring what argument her stepdaughter wanted to make.  “This is Henry’s  _heart_ we’re talking about.  I don’t care what the Blue Fairy is supposed to represent—original goodness, light, or freaking love itself—if she wants Henry’s heart, she deserves what’s coming to her.”

“I’m not saying we should give her Henry’s heart, Regina, just that this  _has_ to be some sort of misunderstanding.  She’s always been on our side.  She’s  _helped_ us so many times, and she’s  _always_ on the right side.  Perhaps we can help her come up with some sort of alternative.”

There were times when Snow’s earnest optimism really did make Regina remember why she’d turned to darkness.  Her stepdaughter really was sickeningly… _good_ .  How could Snow be so optimistic after everything that had happened to her?  Not rolling her eyes took all of the self-control she had.  Thankfully, however, someone got in before Regina could say all the nasty things that came to mind, or offer to rip Snow’s heart out just so she could remember how it felt.   _Bad idea, Regina_ , she tried to tell herself.  Damn, there were times that being evil was just  _easier._ No one questioned your motives when you were evil.

“I’m sorry, but I’m with Regina on this one,” Emma told her mother, her eyes still narrowed with anger.  “Sure, we can talk to her about it, but that… _fairy_ isn’t getting anywhere near Henry in the meantime.”

“Sounds good to me,” Henry said in a small voice, suddenly sounding very young again.  Hearing him like that made Regina’s heart melt; damn the Blue Fairy for frightening him!  Thirteen or not, he was still a child,  _her_ child, and Regina could kill Blue for that if nothing else.

Baelfire turned to look at Regina.  “Is that spell you cast on Henry still good?  The one that kept Pan from being able to rip his heart out?”

“Probably not since I left Storybrooke,” Henry answered, glancing up at her.  “Leaving where there’s magic would banish the spell, right, Mom?”

Regina had to think about that one for a moment.  “I think so.”  Though having places where magic didn’t exist was rather a gray area when it came to magical theory, Henry’s conjecture made sense. 

“Can’t you just cast it again?” Emma asked.

_Can I?_   Regina hated showing weakness, hated not being able to do  _anything_ , but Pan was one thing…an Original Power like the Blue Fairy was quite another.  The insect had thoroughly understated her powers back in Storybrooke, or she’d been more hampered by the odd nature of magic there than anyone else.  Here, however…

“I can try,” she replied hesitantly. 

“I’ll cast it,” Rumplestiltskin volunteered unexpectedly, and all eyes turned to him.  He, however, looked at Regina.  “No offense, Regina, but powerful though you are, your magic isn’t quite up to resisting an Original Power.”

“And yours is?” she demanded automatically, feeling her hackles rising.

Rumplestiltskin only smiled, and when his hands moved over Henry, casting the same spell Regina had used to protect him from Pan, his fingers glowed gold.  To the untrained eye, the spell appeared normal but powerful, yet Regina could _feel_ this magic vibrating in her bones.  Her breath caught in her throat.  Tink had been right all those weeks ago.  This magic wasn’t like anything Regina had ever felt before.  It wasn’t the pure and vicious darkness Regina knew Rumplestiltskin once possessed; this was just intoxicating  _power_ .  Even the spell he cast was multi-layered, the same magic conducted on a dozen different levels to make it impossible for even the greatest of fairies to overcome.

Regina shivered.  He  _wasn’t_ the Dark One now, but this was no normal sorcerer’s power.  What  _was_ he? What power had the curse carried down to turn him into this?

 

****************

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter – I was out of town for the weekend without a computer. Questions in this round: 1) Why do you think the Blue Fairy wants Henry’s heart? and 2) Do you think that the Black Fairy meant for there to be so much power behind the curse of the Dark One?
> 
> Next up is Chapter 17: “New Beginnings”, where Rumplestiltskin explains things to Belle and Bae, Regina “interferes” in the Charming family, and the Charming family finally gets some time together.


	18. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which two separate families spend a lot of time together, answers are given, and Regina gets surprised.

**_Chapter Seventeen—“New Beginnings”_ **

 

_"It will be over soon."_

_A gentle hand stroked Rumplestiltskin’s cheek while he hung shuddering against the wall, blindfolded and flinching from every touch.  His entire body burned, open wounds on his back scraping against rough stone, and the coward in him wanted to give in so badly.  Would it be so horrible to be what he had been?  To again possess all that power, the ability to protect himself and those he loved—_  

_Except she had the dagger.  What if she put the curse back in him and did not stop?  He wouldn't be able to fight her, and while the fae held the dagger, he'd be nothing better than her slave.  His family wouldn’t be safe, even from him.  Especially from him.  Better to fight, terrified though he was._  

The man in his memories admired Danns, Rumplestiltskin knew, shaking himself free of the memory.  He had a vivid memory of standing between Danns' a'Bhàisand Reul Ghorm on a hill side, three powers united against an onrushing force no one of them could have stopped alone.  He remembered fighting with both of them, united in their need to hold their world together against even the greatest of odds.  They lost friends and stood strong, _together_ , long before the sisters’ differences sparked war between them, and then Merlin found himself the only force keeping them from tearing the world apart. 

He remembered Danns under other circumstances, too, and realized that Merlin had been no great paragon of virtue.  Merlin had not been particularly adept at fidelity, though he'd finally tried in his last days, spurning the queen of all fae for the half-human woman he had come to love.  A distant part of Rumplestiltskin’s mind tripped over that realization.  Hadn’t that been how one of the Land Without Magic’s tales of _Beauty and the Beast_ started?  With the future beast spurning an evil fairy, and then being transformed for his refusal of her?  Odd how things ran in circles.  But he'd still cared for the woman who trapped him, still stared at her in shock and betrayal when she had fastened slender bands of bronze around his wrists, ankles, and neck, blocking his magic and binding him against a wall just as Rumplestiltskin had once found himself. 

_"Why?" he whispered brokenly._

_"I am sorry, old friend."  She looked regretful but resolute, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss against his lips.  "But you balance us, my sister and I, and I would not have balance.  I would have victory."_

_"You could have asked."  The words tore out of him._

_Danns' smile was sad.  "You would always choose humanity, Merlin. You have always been so very human, despite your origins."  She stroked his right cheek, long fingers brushing tangled hair out of his eyes.  "But now you will be with me always, and your power will mine to command."_

_"Danns—"_

_"Hush."  Her hand shifted to rest over his mouth, and he stared at her helplessly.  "You made your choice, Merlin, and I have made mine."_  

He had said as much to Reul Ghorm not so very minutes ago, when she had told him to choose a side.  _I already have_.  The words had come from somewhere deep inside him, something Rumplestiltskin-but-not, a place driven by memories not entirely his own—and from his own burning hatred of being used.  For three hundred years, he had fought his own curse's desire to warp him to its purposes, sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing miserably, but always because a terrified spinner had taken on the world's oldest and darkest curse out of love.  And he'd never been willing to forgo the love of his son, no matter what dark promises the curse whispered in his mind.  When he had lost Bae, that love only burned stronger...and he had met Belle, and had learned, really learned, that someone else could love him back. 

No, he hadn't ever let the curse rule him the way it had ruled some of his predecessors, always twisting it to fit his ends and not once allowing someone else to come into possession of the dagger that could rule his soul.  Rumplestiltskin would be no different now, and he'd be no fairy's slave, no matter what the circumstances. 

That left him only one path to choose, and he'd already made his choice. 

Magic tingled in his fingers, traveling like electricity up his spine.  He’d sat quietly through the discussion concerning Henry, his mind whirling with power and memories.  Knowledge flitted through his brain, elusive and hard to pin down; what he needed to know was there, but pulling it forward into his conscious mind was hard.  Yet because he’d always been good at reading people, Reul Ghorm’s suddenly wary glances his way told him that she _feared_ him.  Feared what he might do or be with his curse broken.  Words spoken a millennia and a half earlier echoed in his mind. 

No, she didn’t want a third player in this game, either.  Reul Ghorm wanted to be humanity’s only hope.  She wouldn’t tolerate another Original Power mucking that up. 

“So, now that everyone else is gone, will you tell Belle and I what’s going on, Papa?” Bae asked with a crooked little smile, interrupting his thoughts. 

Belle had shooed Regina and the Charmings out after Rumplestiltskin finished the magic to protect Henry. Vaguely, Rumplestiltskin had heard when his son told Emma and Henry that he’d catch up with them shortly, but first wanted to make sure his idiot father was all right.  Of course, he knew that his son really wanted answers, but his boy was brilliant enough to know that he’d never open up with the Charmings around.  Family they might have been through Henry, but Rumplestiltskin still preferred to keep his cards close.

_“Why do you fight me, Merlin?” Danns asked quietly, her hands on his—_ Merlin’s! _—face again.  “You know I need your help. Without it, my sister will…”_

_“You’re not looking for help,” the man who had held out for far longer than Rumplestiltskin would ever have managed to said thickly, his voice rough with years’ worth of pain.  He was cracking and shaking under the pressure of decades like this._ Thirty years, Rumplestiltskin knew.  It took her thirty years to shape her darkest servant.  _“You want to make me into your slave.”_

_“Then help me instead.”_

_“Give you my soul, you mean,” Merlin whispered weakly, and Rumplestiltskin knew the power racing through him, could feel it tearing into an already battered soul.  He spoke defiantly, but there were too many fissures in once-strong defenses.  Thirty years after his best friend had betrayed him, Merlin no longer remembered what he was fighting for.  Her hands were wet with his tears._

_She looked at him sadly, but the vortex of power surrounding him never faltered, its tendrils digging into him, shredding his core, his heart, his soul._

_“I already have it,” the Black Fairy replied, her hand slipping around to the back of his neck and_ squeezing _hard._

_Merlin cried out, and Rumplestiltskin felt him try to fight one last desperate time.  The effort was doomed and he knew it, but he had to try.  The vortex thickened, a whirlwind of darkness and power and_ ownership _.  The demon hovered just inches away from Merlin’s chest, already slaved to the Black Fairy’s will and waiting for the sorcerer to crumble. He was screaming now, helpless and weak, trying to breathe through the pressure.  He felt every crack that opened up in his soul as they spread outwards like a spider web of wounds.  Each new crack built upon the last.  There was no soul ever born that could withstand the weight of three decades of pressure pushing down upon him like that._

_And yet—moments before Merlin’s final resistance collapsed, Rumplestiltskin felt him box something off, push some doorway to his power aside into an area even Merlin could no longer reach.  He locked something away—a key to the extraordinary powers he had been born with—and as the demon plunged into him it was_ Merlin _who tied his power to the resulting curse._  

“Rumple?” 

Jerking back, Rumplestiltskin tore out of the blank-faced fog he’d been dragged into.  The lingering memory of that darkness washed over him for several long moments, and he had to look down at his shaking hands to make sure they’d not gone gold and scaly again. 

“Sorry,” he whispered thickly, blinking hard.  He _had_ to stop doing this, had to get control of these memories and these powers.  Yet—maybe he had. 

The Blue Fairy’s explanation had been largely redundant, at least as far as he was concerned.  Oh, it gave Rumplestiltskin a framework to pin the memories to, but everything had fallen into place at Hubert’s castle.  There, he had suddenly realized where those memories came from, and instinct had told him that the power he’d gained had been somehow hidden by the curse that carried it along as an unintentional passenger.  Danns' a'Bhàis had only meant to allow the darkness to follow the curse; she had meant for the rest of the power to die with Merlin.  It had become useless; the original Dark One had been unable to access it, anyway.  By the time her work had been done, Merlin had been nothing save a broken shadow of his former self, full to the brim with rage and pain that he burned to take out on the world.  The demon inside him only pushed him further, and he had become the terrors from which nightmares were born. 

But Merlin had made sure the power carried on.  _Merlin_ , not the Dark One, had known that someday his magic would be needed.  And didn’t _that_ thought make a high-pitched giggle well up inside Rumplestiltskin, curse broken or not?  The irony abounded: _he_ was in possession of Merlin’s powers.  The poor spinner turned evil creature had inherited the mantle of the sorcerer made legendary for his attempts to protect humanity from the worst the world had to offer. 

Damn it all.  Everything made sense.  

Belle squeezed his arm, and Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, looking up from his hands to meet his son’s eyes.  “I’m sorry, Bae,” he repeated.  “I was…a little distracted.” 

“By what?” 

“Ever since my curse broke, I’ve been seeing memories.”  He gestured vaguely at his head, wiggling his fingers absently as he tried to figure out how to frame this.  Good with words though he was, how could he explain having the vestiges of someone else’s soul rattling around in his mind? 

“ _Seeing_ memories?”  Bae was good with words, too, and certainly caught the odd phrasing. 

“Not of my own,” Rumplestiltskin answered.  “It’s as if the curse breaking unlocked something.  I’ve always been able to catch glimpses of my predecessors, memories of previous Dark Ones carried along by the curse, but these are new.  Eventually, I realized that they predated the curse itself.  And I now know where they come from.” 

Belle spoke softly, a warm and reassuring presence by his side.  She really was his anchor, and he wasn’t surprised to see a tattered book in her hand.  “From the same place the magic comes from.” 

Surprised, Rumplestiltskin turned to look at her, and the corner of Belle’s mouth turned up in a pleased smile. 

“I found a book,” she explained, gesturing to the thin volume cradled in her lap.  “About the history of magic.  It talks about Original Powers.” 

“And you know.” 

Belle looked into his eyes, and no matter how hard he searched, Rumplestiltskin could not see any change in the way she viewed him, even knowing what he now was.  It wasn’t just power he had.  Just as the curse had turned him into the Dark One, this power changed him, too _._   Belle spoke firmly: “And I know.” 

Relief washed through him.  Part of him was ashamed to admit that he’d been afraid this might chase her away, but Rumplestiltskin had never been particularly fond of himself, and despite the depth of the love he felt for Belle, he often wondered what it was she saw in him.  And the terrified corner of his soul that he would probably _always_ carry with him was always afraid of losing her.  Particularly after having been gone for a year.  True Love or not, why wouldn’t she try to find someone who might make her happy, someone better than him, younger and less stained by darkness?  Belle, however, just squeezed his arm again and gave him a soft smile. 

His son cleared his throat.  “Not to interrupt your moment here, but I’m still kind of in the dark.” 

Belle snickered against his shoulder, and even Rumplestiltskin smiled at that.  

“I suppose I should answer your original question, then,” he began.  “Reul Ghorm was mostly truthful in the information she shared…she just left out the name of the sorcerer.” 

“That fae called you…” Bae started, and then _stared_ , and Rumplestiltskin could see his boy’s mind catch up.  “Oh, damn.  That power came from _Merlin_?” 

“Right in one.” 

Everyone had heard of Merlin.  Hell, Rumplestiltskin remembered telling Baelfire bedtime stories about the legendary sorcerer—stories with questionable basis in fact, but stories all the same.  He’d first learned them from the two spinsters who cared for him after his father abandoned him, beautiful and tragic tales of power.  So his son was understandably shocked, particularly because Merlin was widely held to have been the most powerful human sorcerer _ever_ (a misnomer now, Rumplestiltskin knew, but that was only because history had somehow forgotten that there’d been three others of equal power; Merlin had only lived the longest).  Bae seemed to need to swallow several times before he said: 

“That’s um…” 

“A bit of a leap from where we started?” Rumplestiltskin finished for him, his voice soft.  There’d once been a time when he would never have discussed his own humble beginnings—Belle hadn’t even known about them until sometime after her father had tried to send her over the town line—but this was Bae. 

“That’s the understatement of all time, Papa,” Bae retorted, but at least _he_ didn’t seem very disturbed by it.  Then again, Bae had decided to forgive him as the Dark One; perhaps now he was just happy to hear that the powers hadn’t started inside some legendary font of evil or something. 

“It’s more than that,” Belle put in, looking at Bae and not Rumplestiltskin.  Part of him wanted to stop her, wanted to cut off the explanations Rumplestiltskin could guess she was going to provide—but if he couldn’t be truthful with these two, who could he trust?  Three centuries of loneliness created hard habits to overcome, but for Bae and Belle, he would try.  For her part, Belle only squeezed his arm again and continued: “Merlin wasn’t just a sorcerer, Bae.  He was one of the four original human powers, with power equal to that of the Blue Fairy…or the Black Fairy.” 

“It was her, you know,” Rumplestiltskin admitted quietly, looking down at his hands again and forcing the memories of pain aside.  _His_ memories, this time, not Merlin’s.  “That held me for that year.  She wanted to force the curse back into me.  To make me the Dark One as she did Merlin.” 

Belle’s smaller hand found his, and she squeezed his fingers tightly.  Another deep breath, and then Rumplestiltskin brought his head up to look in his son’s eyes again.  No, he wasn’t perfectly all right, but at least he _knew_ , now.  For that entire year, he had burned to know why she’d tortured him, and now he had the reason.  Even if he still wanted to find a corner and shake until the trauma passed.

“But it didn’t work,” Bae said softly, and Rumplestiltskin was so glad that it wasn’t a question. 

He smiled tightly.  “I had reasons to fight her.  I had the two of you.”

 

****************

 

A month after they’d won his kingdom back for him, King Francis finally scraped up a general of his own and enough soldiers to defend his borders.  The forts along their temporary frontier had also been rebuilt, which allowed David to pull some soldiers out of defending the entire alliance’s borders and bring them back into the main army.  It helped, of course, that the Witch’s newest general, Shan Yu, seemed to want to focus on the Grand Alliance’s biggest army rather than taking back territory, but for the moment Francis’ kingdom seemed secure.  That allowed Mulan to unite her army with David’s, and now they were in the midst of planning their biggest offensive yet. 

Working with the warrior woman wasn’t quite as seamless as working with Baelfire, but they’d formed a pretty good relationship.  Mulan was sharp as a nail, and tougher than anyone David had ever met, and damn it if she didn’t make up for any lack of tactical finesse with good leadership and sheer tenacity.  In the beginning, David had felt a certain need to defend her from some of their more bigoted types, but Mulan had quickly shown him how foolish that notion was.  Even hard-bitten old soldiers were willing to follow her after that slip of a girl proved she could wipe the floor with the lot of them, and she certainly did do that.  In fact, David was in the midst of watching Mulan tear into another well-bred moron who thought a woman had no place commanding an army and trying not to smile.  Lord Avenant was a new addition to their force, related in some distant fashion to Belle, but clearly not from the side of the family that had any common sense. 

“Enjoying the show?” a voice suddenly spoke up from his left, and David jumped, instinctively reaching for his sword. 

Regina laughed.  “I thought you knew how little good that did you against me.” 

“I never heard of you being immortal or impervious to harm,” David retorted out of habit.  Being friendly with Regina still sat oddly with him sometimes, but his stepmother in law was definitely _trying._ Hell, “camping with the Charmings”-type comments aside, Regina was always good to have around, even if you did have to deal with a greater-than-usual quotient of sarcasm. 

_Unless Robin’s around.  Then she reminds me of Snow in some really disturbing ways._  

“No, just likely to kill someone stupid enough to stab me,” Regina replied with a sweet smile. 

“Then I’ll be sure to throw my enemies at you,” he grinned. 

“You won’t be throwing anyone at anything if you don’t get back to the Dark Castle soon,” Regina said, raising an eyebrow.  “Snow’s in labor.” 

“She’s _what?_ ”  David’s heart was suddenly in his throat, a feeling of guilt slamming straight into him.  He _had_ lost track of the dates, and he should have remembered that Snow was due any day now!  But why was Regina, of all people, here to tell him this? 

“In labor.  Giving birth.  Surely you know what that means by now,” was the dry response.  Regina even rolled her eyes, just in case David hadn’t known she thought he was being an idiot. 

He glared at her, not in the mood to be mocked. “Why are _you_ here telling me this?” 

“Well, I seem to have a history of interfering with your children’s births in _some_ way or another.  I just thought I’d be nice enough to take you to the Dark Castle this time, instead of sending someone to stab you.” 

“Gee, that’s nice of you.”  Still, David wasn’t fool enough to turn down the offer.  “Give me a minute to let Mulan know I’m leaving.” 

The Evil Queen shrugged.  “Take your time.  Judging from what Doc said—though I have _no_ idea why you’d let a dwarf preside over the birth of your child—it’s going to be awhile.” 

David ignored the jibe, and strode over to speak to Mulan.  She’d already turned Lord Avenant into paste and was now talking amicably with their senior officers, but she turned to look at David as he approached, her sharp eyes zeroing in on him right away. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Yeah—I mean, _no._ Not _wrong_ , just, well, great.”  David shook his head and tried to make himself make sense—Mulan was staring at him like he’d lost his mind, so David took a deep breath.  And ignored Regina’s snicker.  “Snow’s in labor.  I’ve got to head to the Dark Castle—can you hold things together here?” 

“Of course I can,” Mulan replied right away.  “You go.  You need to be there for this.  For her.” 

“Thanks.  As long as I don’t have to carry this baby around while in a swordfight, I think I’ll be okay,” David couldn’t resist adding with a glance at Regina. 

She was the picture of innocence, while Mulan just looked confused.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Regina declared, but David saw a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

How far had they come that they could joke about this now?  Somehow, their once deadliest enemy had become _family_ , and David couldn’t bring himself to regret that.  So, when Regina held her arm out for him to take, he did so with no hesitation.  

“I’ll send Baelfire back if I can’t get back soon enough for the next offensive,” David promised Mulan.  Surely Bae was done with that rescue mission by now, and he had no doubt that Regina—or Rumplestiltskin, if it came to that—could find Bae and let him know what was going on. 

“We’ll be waiting,” Mulan promised, but Regina didn’t give David a chance to respond.  Magic _tugged_ , and they were gone.

 

****************

 

Emma had been present for exactly _one_ child’s birth in her life, and she hadn’t really been paying much attention to anything except herself at the time.  Of course, the fact that she now had _double_ memories on that front only confused things further; everything happened in the same way until she suddenly decided to hold Henry and changed her mind—except she _hadn’t._   Damn it all.  Could she get Regina to forcibly remove the second set of memories?  Did she want to?  Emma had no idea, but it really didn’t matter at the moment, because here she was, holding her _mother’s_ hand as Snow White started going through contractions. 

“You’ve got some time yet,” Doc told her mother solemnly, pushing his hat out of his eyes with one hand. 

Really?  Who wanted a dwarf to be your obstetrician?  Were her parents barking _crazy_? 

“Just, um, keep breathing,” Emma tried to tell her mother, whose face was scrunched up in discomfort. 

“I know.  I’ve done this before,” Mary Margaret— _Snow_ —panted.  “It’s so much easier when you don’t have the curse to end all curses bearing down on you and the wardrobe isn’t finished.” 

Despite herself, Emma grinned.  God, she hated the Enchanted Forest sometimes.  Childbirth belonged in a proper hospital, with doctors and nurses who understood the need for sterilization and all those other medical procedures.  Even _prison_ had been better than this!  Here, Snow was propped up in an admittedly huge and gorgeous bed in an enchanted _castle_ , of all places, with a dwarf and a fairy looking on.  At least it was Tinker Bell and not that bitch of a Blue Fairy _who had tried to steal Emma’s son._ Chief of the “good” fairies or not, Emma wasn’t going to forget that.  Not this side of eternity ending, anyway. 

“So, no big deal, right?” she asked, pulling her mind away from the still-brewing anger over what had happened while she and Regina were gone.  Gold knew more than he was letting on, of course, and Neal—or Baelfire, she supposed—had better have gotten some answers by now.  But he’d tell her when this was over.  Emma knew that. 

“It won’t be if your _father_ gets here sometime today,” Snow hissed as a contraction hit.  “Where _is_ he?” 

“Regina went to get him,” Tink supplied helpfully, earning herself a glare. 

“Then tell my _evil stepmother_ to hurry the hell up!” 

No one bothered to point out to Snow that Regina wasn’t there to tell, or that by the time someone sent a message via tablet, which had to be read on the other end, Regina would probably be back with David.  Emma didn’t bother to point out that Snow and Regina seemed to get along well these days; she knew all about the stupid things women said while giving birth.  She’d roundly cursed Neal, her unknown parents, and the universe in general while giving birth to Henry.  Besides, she had the feeling that Regina still didn’t mind that label very much.  These days, it was likely to make her laugh. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Emma tried to soothe her mother, but she should have known better. 

“This is his fault,” Snow snarled.  “It’s _always_ his fault.” 

“At least there’s no wardrobe to wait on this time?”  Not that Emma remembered being born, but she’d read that bit of Henry’s book several times before she’d torn the pages out and burned them.

Snow laughed breathlessly.  “No, just a beautiful daughter holding my hand.” 

“Mom…” The word escaped before Emma could stop it, and she felt a smile softening her face.  Their relationship was still rocky; she was _older_ than her parents, for crying out loud, and that would never stop being awkward.  But she knew they loved her, and she loved them, and sometimes that was enough. 

“I love you, Emma.  You know that, right?” Snow said as if she could read her mind.  She looked so sad that it broke Emma’s heart. 

Emma’s eyes were suddenly a little misty.  “I know,” she whispered.  “I know.” 

The door burst open before she could figure out something else to say, for some way to ease the irrational grief she knew that her mother was feeling.  Emma had always been a little angry with her parents for abandoning her, even when she’d known they sent her away to save her.  But how hard had it been for them, sharing only a moment or two with their newborn before giving her up?  That pain was precisely what the original Emma had wanted to avoid when she’d refused to hold Henry…and the thought of letting her child go had made her cling to him in the memories Regina had given her.  Speaking of the Evil Queen, her voice sang out: 

“No need to get up, dear Snow.  We’ve arrived.”  Regina swept through the doors like the queen she technically wasn’t any longer, elegant, graceful, and still more than a little dark. 

“Snow!”  

And there was her father, rushing to her mother’s other side to grip her hand.  The world’s goofiest grin decorated his face, and Emma almost turned away as the two of them kissed.  _They never stop, do they?_   Just watching the depth of her parents’ love made Emma’s heart ache.  It was like watching Regina with Robin, or—frighteningly enough—Rumplestiltskin with Belle.  She _wanted_ that.  She’d spent years telling herself that she’d never let someone break her heart again…but she wanted love like that. 

Then her mother’s hand closed on hers hard, and Emma banished those thoughts, too, just in time for Regina to turn for the door. 

“Regina?” Snow’s voice was surprisingly small, and Emma’s head whipped around to look at the hesitant expression on her mother’s face. 

“Yes?” the Evil Queen asked cautiously. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed,” Snow said quietly, and Emma could hear the plea in that.  Snow didn’t want Regina to feel obligated to stay, but she wanted the older woman to _want_ to stay.  For all the pain and anger between the pair of them, Emma sensed that there’d once also been love, as well.  _And Regina’s technically my step-grandmother.  How weird is that?_  

Regina started, blinking awkwardly.  Then a tiny smile crossed her face, and she sat on the bed next to Emma.  “I’ll stay, then,” the Evil Queen said quietly. 

Snow cried out as another contraction hit her, but her suddenly wide smile never wavered.  Emma exchanged a glance with Regina, a warm feeling sneaking through her.  This was nothing like she’d expected when she’d finally embraced the fact that she was the savior and had to break the curse, but since when did things go according to plan?  They were an odd family, but a family they were.

 

****************

 

Two hours later, Emma couldn’t stop staring at the angry red bundle in her father’s arms.  Her mother was red faced but grinning while Tinker Bell provided the necessary magic to clean Snow up—and okay, that was a nice convenience they didn’t have back home—and Doc had just finished checking the baby over.  Even Regina seemed pleased if a bit uncomfortable; Emma was willing to bet that Regina had never stuck around for someone to give birth, either, and despite being a mother, Regina didn’t have her own personal experiences to fall back on.  Her father, of course, was grinning from ear to ear as if he’d done some of the work himself. 

Sometimes it was a relief to know that even her super-brave, extra-charming, and all-around-perfect father could just be an idiot man, too. 

“Emma,” her father said quietly, extending the squalling baby to her.  “Meet Graham.” 

The floor dropped out from under her, and Emma thought she heard Regina make a small noise from her left.  “Graham?” she whispered. 

“We couldn’t think of a better or braver man to honor,” David replied as Emma finally remembered to take her baby brother into her arms.  

“Hello, Graham,” Emma whispered, cradling the baby close.  God, it was awkward having a baby brother thirteen years younger than her own son, but little Graham was adorable.  “I’m your sister.” 

He didn’t do much other than cry, but he _was_ a newborn.  Still, he seemed to pause to look up at Emma for a moment, and that made her melt.  

“I always wanted a little brother,” she finally managed to say.  

“Really?” Snow asked. 

Emma smiled.  “Better than a little sister who wants me to play dress up with her.”  She reached out a finger to touch Graham’s cheek.  “Baby brothers want to climb trees, don’t you?  I know how to do that.” 

Her parents laughed, and Regina joined in, even if her chuckle did sound a little watery.  Snow sat up and extended her arms, and Emma handed Graham to their mutual mother, who smiled down at him adoringly.  A tiny part of Emma had expected to be envious of this child, of her formerly unknown sibling who would get to know their parents from the beginning of his life onwards, but she didn’t, surprisingly.  Maybe it was because she was a mother, too, or maybe she’d just finally grown up. 

“Regina?” Snow asked quietly, and the woman to Emma’s left started. 

“Yes?” 

“We’d like you to be Graham’s godmother,” Snow replied, and Emma watched the color drain out of Regina’s face. 

“If you’re willing,” David added, and Emma was pretty sure that Regina was going to cry. 

“Of course I am,” she whispered.  “You just try and stop me.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this might be the most answer-full and fluffy chapter I’ve ever written. Fluff’s not normally my forte, so tell me if you think the characterizations did/did not work here. Questions for the coming chapters: 1) Do you think that the Blue Fairy is going to change tactics and 2) Do you think anything untold will happen with the army while Charming is gone?
> 
> Next up is Chapter 18: “Calm Before the Storm”, where the Buffalo-Leather Soldier is back, Excalibur makes an appearance, and King David has to play hero.


	19. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bae avoids family troubles (not his own), David receives a challenge, Excalibur makes an appearance, and the Black Fairy plots.

**_Chapter Eighteen—“Calm Before the Storm”_ **

 

The first two weeks after Prince Graham’s birth were quiet.  Surprisingly so, actually.  Even the Witch’s armies seemed willing to give them a break; Mulan reported no further attacks, and the few raids she sent soldiers out on went almost unopposed.  Most of the residents in the Dark Castle voiced the opinion that the lack of resistance finally meant that the Witch’s forces were overextended and on the ropes, but Bae wasn’t so sure.  Maybe it was that sixth sense of paranoia acting up again, or maybe he was just too cynical to believe anything would be this simple.  Either way, he and Rumplestiltskin seemed to be the only ones wondering why things suddenly seemed to be looking up. 

Still, plans for little Graham’s christening were well underway, invitations going out to every monarch and important dignitary across the Enchanted Forest—heck, Snow White was even crazy enough to invite the Witch, provided she attended under a flag of truce.  _Then again, don’t half the stories start with a monarch snubbing some evil magic user, and_ that’s _why their baby gets cursed?_ The last few decades of drama in the Enchanted Forest were well after Bae’s time, but some things never did seem to change.  It probably was wiser to invite the Witch, provided she came on her best behavior.  And Snow was far from a fool. 

Emma’s mother, unfortunately, apparently _didn’t_ understand her own daughter very well, which was how Bae got stuck in the middle of the world’s most uncomfortable conversation. 

Emma’s face was rather red by the time Bae and Henry walked in, having been told by Hook that Emma was in Graham’s nursery but not that he was interrupting some mother-daughter argument time.  “Look, it’s not that I have anything against dresses, but I’m far from a princess—” 

“Actually, that’s exactly what you are,” Snow cut her off. 

“Well, technically, but—” 

“No buts,” her mother cut her off again.  Had it not been for the fact that she was cradling baby Graham very tenderly, Bae would have called Snow’s implacable expression frightening.  As is, it was simply, well, unyielding.  “You _are_ a princess, Emma.  You’re the heir to two kingdoms.” 

“I don’t want to be Queen of anything!” Emma squeaked, and Bae couldn’t remember ever having seen her so frightened, even when facing down Cora or robbing a convenience store for the first time. 

“It’s not about what you want, Emma.  It’s about the responsibilities that your birth entails.” 

“I’m older than you are!” Emma protested.  “And I’d make a horrible Queen.  Just ask Neal—or Bae, whatever you are.  We met when I was trying to steal the car he’d already stolen, for crying out loud!” 

“I’m not getting into this,” Bae protested even as both women turned to look at him, holding his hands up, palm out, as if to fend them off.  “No _way_ am I getting involved in this conversation.” 

“You were trying to steal an already stolen car?” Henry asked his mother, not helping at all.  “You never told me that story!  That’s so cool.” 

Yeah, the kid was at the age where thieves and rebels were cool, wasn’t he?  No wonder why he liked Robin Hood so much.  Those two were already getting along like a house on fire, much to Regina’s pleasure.  But maybe Bae could use that fascination, even if it was bad parenting.  He turned to throw his son an exasperated look. 

“I’ll tell you that one later if you back me up here,” he wheedled.  “But I think this is a conversation that your mom and your grandmother need to have on their own, don’t you?” 

Henry shrugged.  “I dunno.  It seems kind of important.” 

“ _Thank_ you, Henry,” Snow said, every inch the queen. 

Bae and Emma groaned together.  Henry, ever the honest little optimist, arched an eyebrow at his father. 

“Don’t you think it’s important, Dad?” he asked, and wasn’t _that_ a loaded question. 

“I’m just a spinner’s kid from the Frontlands, Henry.  This royalty thing is _way_ beyond me,” Bae retorted. 

“Spinner?” Henry echoed curiously, and Bae cursed himself silently. 

“Long story,” he said hastily.  He’d forgotten that history seemed to have forgotten his father’s background, but Bae knew that it wasn’t something Rumplestiltskin discussed.  Given his own experience with obnoxious royals, it was probably best to let the lot of them think that Rumplestiltskin (and by extension, Bae) had come from better stock than the dirt poor peasantry.  _God, what will the Charmings think of that one?_ If Emma was getting lectures now on acting like a princess, what would happen if Bae tried to press his suit?  Damn this world for being so class conscious and complicated.  Still, he had to say something before Henry asked more.  “I’ll tell you some other time.” 

Henry deserved to know, at least, and Bae knew his father would agree with him.  But then Henry hadn’t grown up here, either, so he’d be a lot more open minded.  And probably think it was cool, somehow. 

Thankfully, Snow was too focused on Emma to jump down that rabbit hole.  Putting Graham back into his gorgeously decorated crib, she straightened and looked at her daughter again.  Regally.  

“Emma, all I am asking is that you take a few lessons on proper etiquette.  It’s not much to ask.  We’ve already got a gown that can be altered to fit you—and I know you’ll look _lovely_ in it.  I just don’t want you to be at a disadvantage, that’s all.” 

Oh, Snow White was brilliant.  Flat out brilliant.  Emma, however, looked at Bae for backup. 

“I’m just a kid from the system who happened to break a curse,” she whispered, and he probably would have hugged her if Snow hadn’t taken her hands tenderly. 

“I bet you’ll look great,” he said instead, throwing her a crooked smile and a self-conscious shrug.  Knowing Emma, she might hit him for that remark, but instead it got a watery smile in return.   _Man, this really is getting to her._  

“It’s not that,” Emma muttered, still looking miserable.  “It’s—” 

A pounding on the doors cut her off, and immediately, Graham started to cry.  Snow said something absolutely un-queen-like under her breath as she picked up her now wailing baby, and Baelfire strode over to the doors.  Tearing them open—nothing less would stop the banging, and in turn Graham’s bawling—Bae found himself face to face with a very startled dwarf.  Not having grown up anywhere near their time period, he had a hard time telling Snow White’s seven pet dwarves apart, but he _thought_ this one was Sneezy.  Or maybe Dopey.  

“What kind of idiot _are_ you?” Bae hissed, gesturing at the baby as Snow tried desperately to soothe her son.  _Got Emma’s temper, that one.  Wonder where they both get it from such level-headed parents?_   “Who bangs on the nursery door loud enough to wake the dead?” 

The dwarf flushed red.  “I, uh, Prince James—I mean King David—sent me to tell Queen Snow that there’s a herald at the gates.  There’s some soldiers, too.  One of them has issued a challenge.” 

“A challenge?” Snow echoed immediately, handing Graham over to a startled Emma so that she could stride over.  The queen’s eyes were suddenly fierce, but that didn’t overcome the sinking feeling in Bae’s chest.  “To whom?” 

“King David,” Sneezy replied.  “The Buffalo-Leather Soldier has challenged him to single combat to end the war once and for all.”

 

****************

 

Thirty minutes later, Bae stood between his son and the woman he loved, listening to her parents discuss the pros and cons of David accepting this unexpected challenge.  They were both in favor of ending the war as quickly as possible, of course; Snow didn’t seem terribly excited to have the father of her newborn risking his life, but her straight-backed posture barely hinted at those misgivings.  Whatever else she was, Emma’s mother was one hell of a queen, and Bae respected her more and more by the moment.  Despite Emma’s objections to being styled a princess, she really was a lot like Snow, particularly now with her eyes blazing fiercely and fastened on her father. 

“The Witch is here,” Regina said unexpectedly, striding back into the great hall.  Once the challenge had been made and enemy forces had arrived, the Evil Queen had headed up to the battlements to spy on the enemy.  Although Philip was in temporary command of the soldiers stationed to protect the castle while everyone else was in this meeting, they all knew that the Dark Castle’s strength lay in its magical defenses.  So, it paid to send a sorcerer to gauge the enemy’s ability to deal with them. 

“She is?” David’s eyebrows shot up, and then he grinned.  “I guess they’re serious, then.” 

Several people murmured in agreement, but oh, some of the spectators looked nervous, particularly King Hubert and Queen Leah, both of whom had been invited due to their rank but really weren’t a part of this council.  They did, however, have more experience with the Witch than most of Snow and Charming’s inner circle, and Bae couldn’t help noticing their unease. 

Maybe that was why he could hold his silence no longer, and had to point out:  “I’d say it’s damn serious, since you already killed the guy you’re supposed to be fighting.  Let’s not forget that little fact.” 

David grimaced.   “Someone must have healed him before he could die.” 

“Not the Witch,” Regina pointed out immediately.  

“There were rumors that a woman saved the Buffalo-Leather Soldier,” David replied thoughtfully just as Bae remembered the same thing.  “Red haired, dressed in silver and black.  I never believed it, but—” 

“What did you say?” Rumplestiltskin interjected, speaking for the first time, and Bae turned to look at his father with everyone else.  He was seated where most everyone else was standing, sprawled in a high-backed chair and the picture or relaxation, but his brown eyes had narrowed when David spoke.  There was something in him that reminded Bae of a coiled spring.  He was ready for anything—perhaps not physically, but certainly on a magical front. 

He loved his father—always had, even when he was furious and heartbroken—but there were times Bae really wished that he understood what was going on behind that mild expression.  Bae had spent two and a half centuries stuck in Neverland, never aging and never maturing, but Rumplestiltskin had _lived_ those years.  He’d changed enormously from the simple spinner he’d been, and not just in the terrifying ways that the curse had altered him in the beginning.  Bae knew better than most that the native intelligence had always been there, but sometimes it was like his father’s mind worked on a different level from everyone else’s.  Of course, Bae completely understood how a few centuries’ perspective could impact the way you viewed the world, even if his had been stuck at fifteen.  How much of a difference did it make to watch the world go by during those years?  Experience had colored his father as much as the curse ever had, or maybe more. 

“Some of our soldiers said that they saw a red haired woman in silver and black save the Buffalo-Leather Soldier,” David repeated as Bae mused.  “Since he’s here, whoever that was must have healed him.” 

“Of course she did.”  Rumplestiltskin’s expression darkened.  When he spoke, his voice was sharp, more reminiscent of the Dark One than anything else.  “And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be the Black Fairy.  Danns' a'Bhàis.  It seems she’s joined our little war.” 

Belle flinched from his father’s right, and Bae swallowed. 

“How do you know?” Snow spoke up, sounding more curious than doubtful. 

“Because I spent a year in her company, dear,” Rumplestiltskin replied.  “And not voluntarily.” 

Even Snow flinched when Rumplestiltskin threw that one out, referencing the year he’d been ‘dead’ while none of them knew where to look for him.  No one spoke of what he’d endured because Bae’s father seemed to prefer to act like it hadn’t happened, but now the fact that the world’s darkest fairy had managed to hold _Rumplestiltskin_ for an entire year sent an undercurrent of fear racing through the room.  Rumors about Rumplestiltskin’s treatment at the Black Fairy’s hands had spread quickly around the Grand Alliance, but Bae actually knew that the stories understated how bad things had been.  Belle had pulled him aside to share some of the details with him because his father wouldn’t, so he understood how the Black Fairy had been able to hold Rumplestiltskin, in addition to why she had wanted to. 

Oddly enough, only his father seemed unaffected by everyone else’s anxiety, and a slight smile made his lips twitch. 

“You might say that I’ve come to know her well,” Rumplestiltskin continued dryly.  “And if she chose to heal this Buffalo-Leather Soldier, nothing good will come of that.  Not for us.” 

“It’s not like she can make him invincible,” Emma pointed out warily.  Then she glanced at Rumplestiltskin.  “Can she?” 

“She might have already.”  It was Regina who answered.  “The Buffalo-Leather Soldier is standing with the Witch out there, but from what I could tell, there did seem to be some magic on him.” 

Bae grimaced and spoke up again, ignoring the dirty look King Hubert shot him for daring to intervene in a conversation properly belonging to his betters.  _Nope, he’s never going to like me.  Guess that means I don’t have to care what he thinks._   “Is it even worth fighting him, then?  We already know that the Witch won’t keep her word—look at the _last_ parley she offered.” 

“I know,” David sighed.  “And yet…” 

“Who are we if we don’t try?” Snow finished for him.  “Over half the kingdoms in the Enchanted Forest are still under the Witch’s control.  We can’t ignore this opportunity to save them.” 

Heads nodded around the room, and Bae bit back a frown.  Even if this wasn’t some point of honor—which made royals do funny things—the odds of this challenge going downhill fast were high.  Yes, there was an enormous potential gain, but only if their enemy was also feeling honorable.  An exasperated sigh came from his side, and Bae was surprised to see Emma throw a frustrated glance his way, silently commiserating with what he’d said.  He shot her a lopsided smile and a shrug, glad to see that he wasn’t the only one who thought this foolish.  Fortunately, when Emma spoke up, everyone listened to her like the princess she was. 

“Look, I didn’t grow up here, so maybe I’m missing something.  But why should we bother with this if the Witch is going to cheat?” 

Regina snorted, looking amused.  “Evil always cheats.” 

“Because no one will believe in us if we don’t try,” Snow answered earnestly. 

David nodded, agreeing immediately.  “I can’t very well say that I was afraid to fight in case the enemy cheated.  No soldier would ever follow me again.”  He smiled wryly.  “Heck, _I_ wouldn’t follow me.” 

Every royal in the room looked satisfied, and even Bae couldn’t argue with David’s more practical logic.  The world was just plain stupid sometimes, and the Witch had pushed them into a corner with this one.  If David even _appeared_ to be afraid to face the Buffalo-Leather Soldier in combat, the Grand Alliance might start to fracture.  After all, King David was their war leader.  He was the one that armies loved to follow, not Prince Philip, Mulan, or even Baelfire.  They were all competent enough, but David was the charismatic leader that held the army together.  _And now he’s going to risk his life.  How freaking brilliant is that?  He’ll probably wind up as a martyr when this bastard kills him, but he’ll still be dead._  

If there was one thing Bae had learned in Neverland, it was that fights against an invincible opponent never turned out well. 

“Of course you need to fight this challenge, dearie,” his father spoke up again, shattering the silence.  “But I trust you’ll not be adverse to an advantage of your own?” 

“What, are you going to make _him_ invincible?” Emma demanded sarcastically. 

“No.”  Surprisingly, Rumplestiltskin answered that straight, without even a chuckle.  “You wouldn’t like the cost of that magic.  Or what it does to you in the long run.” 

“Then what do you have in mind?” David asked curiously, but Rumplestiltskin was on his feet before the king finished voicing the question, striding over to a set of brackets near the far wall.  

A broadsword sat in those brackets, parallel to the floor and set well apart from everything around it.  Like most of the treasures in the Dark Castle, it had remained untouched during the Grand Alliance’s occupation.  Even Belle didn’t know what magical properties most of objects Rumplestiltskin had collected over the years possessed, and they’d all been loath to touch something lest it curse them, or worse.  So the sword—useful though it might have been in a war where they could always use another weapon—sat gathering dust until Rumplestiltskin’s return, upon which he’d promptly ignored it and almost everything outside his work tower.  Now, however, he lifted the sword easily in his right hand, swinging it in a short arc until the point faced David.  The sorcerer smiled. 

“Excalibur, of course.” 

“Excalibur?” the king echoed, and then sighed in annoyance.  “Come on.  I’ve played this game before.” 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled.  “Not the little bauble you tried to use to fool your darling True Love, dearie.  _Excalibur._   The real deal.” 

He tossed the sword, and Bae shivered while he watched the silver-colored blade flipped end over end, floating through the air.  David caught it easily, but not before an odd shimmer filled the great hall.  That sword was magic, old and deep.  David must have felt that, too, because a long moment passed before he could tear his eyes off of the blade. 

“You had your legends a bit mixed up when you told Snow that Excalibur could only be used by a kingdom’s true heir,” the sorcerer told the king.  “A sword isn’t that picky.  But Excalibur _is_ capable of cutting through any enchantment the Black Fairy has put on her Buffalo-Leather Soldier.  It’ll even kill the Witch, if you can get close enough to do the deed.” 

_That_ got everyone’s attention, until Rumplestiltskin grinned wickedly.  “Or the Black Fairy, but I _know_ she won’t give you the opportunity.” 

“Excalibur is a secondary power,” Belle breathed, and Bae’s father’s smile softened when it turned on her. 

“Right in one.  Created by Merlin over fifteen hundred years ago.”  He turned back to David, brown eyes sharp.  “That’s a loan.  I’m going to want it back.” 

“Right.”  David obviously still wanted to stare at the sword; by his side, Snow was looking at it in awe, too.  Moments earlier, Excalibur had looked old and dirty, but now the sword seemed to shine with power.  Almost every eye in the room was fastened on it, Bae’s included.  Hell, even Emmalooked pretty shocked, but then, Excalibur was probably the most famous sword in _any_ world. 

And of course, his father had had it collecting dust for centuries.

 

****************

 

The wards were weaker than she had expected. 

On the surface, that should have been pleasing.  Weaker defenses would be easier to breach, when the time came, and the day would indeed arrive when she came forth to reclaim her servant.  Knowing she could overpower them should have been something of a balm to the anger over losing him in the first place—but instead she found herself disappointed.  Weak wards on a mountain castle were beneath her old friend.  She wished to defeat him, of course, but never without fighting a battle worth winning.  Danns had won in the end, and yet obviously Merlin had preserved something unexpected beneath the curse she had forced upon him.  Unlike her sister, she enjoyed surprises, so— 

Fascinating.  The wards _were_ weaker, but there was a subtle bent to them.  Even when she’d started probing, quietly and delicately, the threads piecing the defenses together slipped free of her grasp, slipping away before she had a hold on them.  Of course, Danns didn’t intend to breach the wards today—there would be no point in that, not when her _other_ pieces were playing their parts so well—but she had meant to lay a handful of traps of her own, to leave a few threads behind that she could exploit at her leisure.  Yet the wards proved resistant, elusive and layered in ways she had not anticipated.  There was skill behind their crafting, skill and subtlety, both of a type she’d never encountered before. 

Danns' a'Bhàis shivered, feeling the distant rumble of power beneath those defenses _._ And then she smiled. 

Oh, this wasn’t Merlin’s doing.  She had no doubt that her old friend lay inside the (former and future) Dark One, but this was clearly Rumplestiltskin at work.  Looking at the multi-layered magic on the castle made her reevaluate her opinion of the man she’d tortured; she had realized he was clever, but this was something else, entirely.  Merlin had been all power and stubbornness, firm in his convictions and forthright in his beliefs.  Rumplestiltskin, she had realized a few days into the year she had held him, was something else entirely.  

He’d not wasted time, either.  Or perhaps Merlin had not, and her old friend was merely hiding within the other man, biding his time and influencing Rumplestiltskin only as required.  One of them had certainly come to grips with the original power Danns knew so well—and that was undoubtedly Merlin.  She’d grown to know Rumplestiltskin well enough to appreciate the frightened mess she had left him in, and doubted he had the mental capacity to wrap his mind around such things without help, or at least not so very soon.  Clever though he was, he was not cut from the same cloth as Merlin, not built to withstand decades of pain before giving in.  She had _broken_ Merlin, shaped him and turned him from a brave man into a slave to his own rage.  Rumplestiltskin would have been child’s play had that younger sorceress and her companions not rescued him. 

There would be time for that.  For everything.  Smiling again, she watched the castle’s gates open and a quartet of figures stride out.  They could not see her.  Danns stood in the shadows, buried deeply within the trees and there as an observer only.  Even Zelena did not realize her mistress was present as she waited for the “Grand Alliance’s” hero-king to come out and meet their champion.  The duel had been Zelena’s idea, of course; she was growing tired of all-out war and— 

_He_ was one of them.  Walking to the right of that king—and oh, didn’t _that_ bring up memories!—and listening to the conversation the other three shared.  The king and the other two were unimportant; the young woman was likely the one they called the savior, for she wasn’t her dark-haired mother.  She was vaguely interesting only on account of her latent magical talent and the way destiny seemed to dog her shadow, but the dark haired man walking to her left was forgettable.  Oh, he was older than he had any right to be, but still unremarkable.  That boy was the wary one in the bunch, his eyes flickering around cautiously as soldiers from inside the castle walls trotted out to fill positions mirroring the Witch’s forces on the edge of the tourney area, but he wasn’t important. 

Rumplestiltskin, however, was.  But what caught her eye about him was not the way he crackled power, because he didn’t.  _Merlin_ would have, would have been a beacon of magic striding across the field, daring anyone to cross his chosen king and face the consequences.  Rumplestiltskin, however, was more…elusive.  The power wasn’t muted; no, it was contained, leashed, and ready to strike at a moment’s notice for all that he looked relaxed.  Watching him made her heart beat faster.  Yes, she had suspected correctly.  Merlin was in there, and she looked forward to reuniting with her old friend.

 

****************

 

He’d insisted on accompanying Charming at the last minute, feeling the whisper-soft presence of fae magic at the back of his mind, probing the defenses he’d layered around the castle.  Rumplestiltskin hadn’t felt that magic in two months , but he would have known it anywhere.  _She_ was here. 

So he walked out with Charming, Bae, and Emma, making it an odd sort of family trip out to a duel to the death.  Part of him wanted to laugh at the thought, but Rumplestiltskin supposed that he could have chosen worse companions.  Charming was resolute, of course, every inch the heroic warrior king, right in his element the way he’d never been in Storybrooke.  David Nolan’s insecurities had long since vanished.  Emma was the opposite, restless and desperately trying not to show her nerves.  Their savior hated situations she couldn’t control, and Rumplestiltskin could feel the determination rolling off her in waves.  Bae, however, was somewhere in the middle, laid back and utterly adaptable.  His eyes were alert, watching for trouble, but unlike Emma, Bae seemed to be completely at ease. 

It wasn’t the first time that Rumplestiltskin realized how very much his son had grown into his role here in the Enchanted Forest, and he was _so_ very proud of him.  Bae had done better for himself than Rumplestiltskin might ever have dreamed—he’d always known that his boy was brilliant and would succeed at whatever he chose to do, but the their background always presented an undeniable handicap.  Upward mobility in the Enchanted Forest wasn’t what it had been in the Land Without Magic, where even a poor man could become a world leader.  But the Enchanted Forest had never worked like that, and inequity between classes had simply been a fact of life for as long as Rumplestiltskin could remember.  Someone who bucked society’s norms just wasn’t _normal_. 

The fact that Rumplestiltskin managed to completely defy conventions was often ignored by anyone important enough to care, particularly since most of them just plain didn’t know his background these days.  Sorcerers formed a social class all of their own, anyway, with the more powerful ones moving in the most rarified circles and associating with monarchs easily.  But that wasn’t terribly surprising; most magic users actually came from the upper classes to begin with.  People like Rumplestiltskin (peasant born and bred) or even Cora (a tradesman’s daughter) were the exceptions to every unwritten rule.  Regina fit the mold far better than they did; she was the daughter of a prince and royalty, though distant, in her own right.  Most sorcerers came from the unexpectedly gifted children of nobles, or children of other magic users.  The lower class magic users, hedge witches/wizards, small town healers, midwives, and such, were a breed apart from the greater sorcerers, and they didn’t move in the same social circles, either. 

Bae had been destined to be a spinner or weaver because of his father’s chosen trade, or a foot soldier if he’d proven less talented at that than Rumplestiltskin suspected he would have.  But those would have been his only options.  He would never have been allowed to be an officer in any army, let alone command one, and his relationship with Emma would never have happened in a million years.   Now, as the son of a sorcerer he would have had a lot more choices, yet he still wouldn’t have been able to be who he was now.  Their world wouldn’t have allowed it. 

_I suppose that sojourn to the Land Without Magic might have been good for all of us,_ Rumplestiltskin mused, his mind tripping along the various paths that the use of the Dark Curse had driven their world down.  He didn’t particularly care to _See_ any of them at the moment, and pushed the small visions aside, but it still was interesting to contemplate how Regina’s curse would continue to change their world.  Perhaps the stagnant nature of the Enchanted Forest would finally be overcome by lessons people had learned over almost three decades in another world.  Or perhaps— 

“You’ve had this sword for years, haven’t you?” Charming asked, interrupting Rumplestiltskin’s thoughts. 

“Of course.” 

The King shot him an exasperated look.  “You couldn’t have mentioned that back when I was looking for something to inspire Snow?” 

“You didn’t ask,” he shrugged, letting an innocent smile play over his lips as he remembered Snow White coming to him, so full of her confidence and ready to go to war against Regina.  She’d been so _shocked_ when he’d destroyed that fake sword Charming had stuck into a stone (though he’d been impressed; who would expect such innovation from a shepherd?).  And then he’d snatched her mother’s necklace from her as payment for wasting his time. 

He should probably give that back.  Rumplestiltskin knew exactly where it was, stuck in a chest in one of the Dark Castle’s many storerooms.  He vaguely remembered Snow protesting that the necklace had belonged to her mother, so it would make a good peace offering.  Not because he was feeling _nice,_ of course.  The way things promised to go over the next months, he’d probably need all the goodwill he could gather from his grandson’s relatives, which would make returning the necklace a worthy investment. 

“You _knew_ what I was looking for.”  Charming glared, but Rumplestiltskin didn’t detect any actual anger in the expression. 

“I had confidence that you’d find something,” he replied lightly.  And it had been important that Charming do so, to let his growing relationship with Snow develop still more.  They’d needed a challenge to their love, one they had to overcome, and Charming’s white lie had fit that bill nicely. 

“I’m sure you did,” the king grumbled. “Do you ever _not_?” 

Unwittingly, his eyes found Bae’s.  “I have my moments,” Rumplestiltskin murmured, just as magic washed over him. 

Not responding to the feather-light touch took all the self-control he had; the urge to lash out was overwhelming.  But this fight was to take place under a flag of truce…and he was willing to bet that the Black Fairy thought she’d been subtle enough that he ought not have noticed the tiny magical scan.  _Let her think I don’t know,_ he decided, forcing back memories of fear and pain.  Two could play at the manipulation game.  He’d content himself with scanning the challenge field for any other spells, ones that would give their enemy an edge or undermine the parley itself. 

“So, how exactly does this work, anyway?” Emma interjected, looking at her father. 

“We meet on neutral ground,” Charming replied, gesturing at the cordoned off area they were approaching.  Soldiers from the castle and belonging to the Witch already ringed the area; standing at ceremonial positions dictated by years of such foolish displays.  Rumplestiltskin had never really understood the urge royals had to stake an entire war on the outcome of one small duel, but the peasant lurking in him was always grateful when he saw it happen.  A fight to the death between champions meant that less lowborn foot soldiers would die while the important folk duked it out over who got control of whatever they were fighting for.  Charming, however, was continuing to explain to the only princess in the Enchanted Forest who probably agreed with Rumplestiltskin’s assessment of the situation.  “Each of us brings three companions.  The soldiers from both sides will keep anyone else from interfering.  And then we fight until one of us yields or dies.” 

“ _Can_ you yield in a fight to the death?” 

“If you want the other guy to kill you, sure.”  That was Bae, whose cynicism mirrored his father’s.  “Excalibur or no, David, I still think this is a dumb idea.” 

“Dumb or not, I’ve got to do it,” Charming replied.  “Even if the Witch doesn’t keep her end of it.” 

“Which we know she won’t,” Bae pointed out mildly. 

“Why the hell is it that the good guys are supposed to be honorable when evil can cheat all it wants?” Emma demanded, and of course she looked at Rumplestiltskin.  Well, _glared_ at him, anyway. 

“Don’t ask me, Princess”—oh, and that title made Emma bristle; he’d have to use it when he wanted to annoy her—“I’ve always been a believer in keeping my promises.  No one will trust you if you don’t, and that does tend to make people less likely to make a deal with you.” 

Emma started to say something else, and then cut herself off.  “Oh.  Wow.  She really is _green_ , huh?” 

“You should have seen him before,” Charming muttered, gesturing at Rumplestiltskin, who chuckled. 

“Maybe it keeps her from getting sunburned?” Bae suggested jokingly. 

“Magic will do that to you if you’re not careful,” Rumplestiltskin addressed Emma, gesturing at the Witch, who stood on the opposite side of the tourney area with the Buffalo-Leather Soldier and two others.  “And _that_ is why I manage the cost of magic so carefully.  Exterior changes are always amplified on the inside; what you can’t see is what she’s done to her own soul.” 

_My soul had enough damage from the curse; how would I have looked if I’d not been so careful after those early days?_   Rumplestiltskin could hardly remember what Zoso had looked like when his predecessor hadn’t been using his human glamour, but the vague memories he’d inherited from his other predecessors indicated that the Dark One could look a lot worse than Rumplestiltskin ever had. 

“How come Regina looks so normal, then?” Emma wanted to know. 

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “Regina’s vain,” he quipped, and then turned a little more serious.  “And the root of her evil had always been born of her pain.  She was cautious, Regina, even when she was at her worst.  And she rarely embraced the worst she could be.” 

_Much to my past frustration, though now I’m somewhat glad for that._ What kind of odd world did they live in where the Evil Queen and the former Dark One were the best sorcerers that the “good” side had?  There were times Rumplestiltskin wondered if the irony might drive him mad. 

The Buffalo-Leather Soldier stepped away from the Witch before their conversation could continue, striding out into the roped-off area.  He was indeed a monster of a man, taller than David by at least six inches, and clad in simple leather armor that only made him look more threatening.  He bore a enormous sword that was almost half again the length of Excalibur, and made hefting it look easy.  The Soldier _looked_ the part of the legendary warrior he was, wearing that look of eagles that storybook artists always liked to paint.  Straight-backed and proud, one would have thought he was supposed to be the hero of the piece instead of the champion for the villains.  Not far away, the Witch smiled as she watched Charming stop and take in his opponent.  The king didn’t show a bit of fear, of course—Rumplestiltskin would never have set him up as the hero if he was that type—but even then it was obvious that David hadn’t expected the Buffalo-Leather Soldier to look like this. 

He was coated in magic, too, with tight threads of power shimmering in the afternoon sunlight if you knew where to look.  The Soldier clearly didn’t need spells to make him faster or stronger, but he’d clearly been brought back from the edge of death, and that sort of magic _lingered_.  But there was fae magic on him, too, protective and tricky, designed to keep any normal weapon from harming him in the unlikely occurrence David might manage to get a blow in. 

“David of Eltaria ,” the Buffalo-Leather Soldier bellowed.  “I, Sir Gingalain of Wales do hereby challenge you to single combat!  Let the victor accept the surrender of the other’s forces, and let us end this war once and for all!” 

Wasn’t that interesting.  The Buffalo-Leather Soldier turned out to have a name, and he referred to Charming only as a monarch of _Snow White’s_ kingdom.  Did that mean George was still running around and trying to claim his kingdom?  Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t have been surprised.  And yet…why did he recognize Sir Gingalain?  Something in the back of his mind stirred, knowledge buried within Merlin’s memories.  What was he missing? 

“I accept your challenge!” Charming replied immediately, squaring his shoulders and drawing his own sword. 

“Good luck, Dad,” Emma said quietly, and Charming turned to kiss her on the cheek.  That gave Rumplestiltskin a moment to turn his eyes away from the Witch—who was smiling at him, quite predictably—and catch David’s arm before the king could walk out. 

“Excalibur won’t make you invincible, dearie, and it won’t make you stronger.  You’ll have to use that brain of yours and strike where it counts,” he said softly.  “Understand?” 

David nodded.  “I understand.”  Then the young king smiled.  “Besides, I owe you the sword back, right?  I can’t give return it if I’m dead.” 

With that grin, David strode out to meet the most legendary swordsman and general in the history of the Enchanted Forest.  Emma grimaced and Bae frowned, but a smile played out on Rumplestiltskin’s lips.  Oh, he’d chosen _well_ when he’d decided which infant to hand King George, all those years ago.  He’d known the second one would matter, and _here_ was the moment where David would prove that.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, several Arthurian references in this chapter, and things are heating up! Bonus points to those of you who realize who Sir Gingalain’s mother is and who recognize the name I pegged on Snow’s kingdom, which is a nod to a fabulous series of fairy tale books. Now onto my question: do you think Rumplestiltskin is right that Merlin’s soul is long dead, or is the Black Fairy right and Merlin is only waiting? 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Next up is Chapter 19: “Dark Winds Rising”, in which David duels the Buffalo-Leather Soldier, Mulan faces off with the Black Knight, and the fae begin to come out of the shadows.


	20. Dark Winds Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the duel continues, Mulan fights the Black Knight, and Grumpy's heart breaks. Oh, and the fae are Up To Something.

**_Chapter Nineteen—“Dark Winds Rising”_ **

 

At the same moment where David’s sword first clashed against that of the Buffalo-Leather Soldier, Mulan was flat on her back and fighting for her life. 

A giant of a different man bore down on her, his black-bladed broadsword crashing down against her own lighter blade, and it was all Mulan could to do keep her head from parting from her shoulders.  There had barely been time to scrawl a quick communication to the Dark Castle when the Black Knight had arrived to challenge her, though she had been sure to send them the note—and wait for a response—before stepping out to meet him.  Oddly enough, he’d wanted to fight _Mulan_ , not someone more important, and though she was flattered by the attention, she sensed that something was not quite right.  However, the Black Knight had left her with little choice in the matter, and if King David had wanted her to refuse the challenge, he would surely have told her so.  Or returned himself, now that his son had been safely born. 

Besides, Mulan had never met a swordsman who could match her.  The bigger they were, the harder they fell, and looking up at a black armored monster who was a foot and a half taller than her did nothing to intimidate Mulan.  She’d entered the fight with confidence, only to find that the Black Knight was far faster than she’d expected—and far more prone to cheating. 

She would have beaten him easily if one of his followers hadn’t shot an arrow into her left knee, and now battle raged around the two of them. The Black Knight’s dishonorable conduct had invalidated the terms of their challenge, at which point the Grand Alliance’s army had rushed in.  Yet the two of them were still locked in a duel that no one else was fast enough to join, leaving Mulan to limp her way through each movement, still trying to use her greater agility against her opponent. 

Blocking yet another heavy swing and rolling to her feet, she reflected that her tactics were not working so very well.

 

****************

 

Emma shifted nervously, trying to contain her own fury.  Twenty minutes in—unlike most of the fools around here, she was still wearing her watch, though matching it up on Enchanted Forest time was challenging enough that she’d stopped trying—neither challenger had managed to strike a blow.  Not one.  Her father and the Buffalo-Leather Soldier were both sweating and breathing hard, but they were still dancing around one another with ridiculously large swords, moving gracefully and quickly enough that their limbs and swords often turned into one silver-hued blur. 

Across from them, the Witch and her companions stood motionless, but the sly smile on that green face was already starting to get on Emma’s nerves.  How was the Witch so confident?  From where Emma was standing, the duelists seemed pretty evenly matched.  Neither had so much as managed to cut the other so far, yet the Witch was still standing there smugly.  What was it that Regina had said?  That the Black Fairy—whoever she was—could have made the Buffalo-Leather Soldier impervious to harm.  Was that what was going on?  It was hard to tell if any of David’s blows had come close enough to hurt the Soldier.  What if Gold had been wrong and Excalibur wasn’t enough? 

“Does it usually take this long?” she finally asked Neal—Baelfire—trying to bite back her impatience.  She was still getting used to the whole name change thing. 

“Hell if I know.  I don’t exactly come from royalty,” her ex replied with a shrug.  

She glared at him.  Somehow, Bae (she needed to learn to call him that, no matter how weird it felt) had gone and become friends with her father while she was gone, and Emma found herself strangely comforted by that.  Was it because she didn’t want Neal to be stuck here alone, or was it because she liked her Dad and had once thought of him as _her_ friend, too?  It was so confusing. 

“No, you’re a car thief,” she shot back, just to see what he’d say. 

“That, too,” he chuckled, but it made Gold’s head turn. 

“Car thief?” her ex’s father echoed, one eyebrow going up. 

“Yeah, that’s a long story,” Neal replied.  “We met when Emma tried to steal the car I’d already stolen.  I was sleeping in the back seat, and I woke up.  Our adventures pretty much started there.” 

Gold’s eyebrows practically mated with his hairline.  “That’s hardly an auspicious—” 

“You’re one to talk,” Neal cut him off.  “You got Belle in a _deal_ , Pop.” 

Emma didn’t know that story, but she was too surprised by Gold’s chuckle to laugh with them.  The relationship between these two really _had_ changed; she remembered Neal running from Gold and then endless amounts of tension when Gold lacked the good grace to die.  Of course, Neal had been entitled to be furious with his father if he wanted to, but all the drama had made her worry for Henry—not that there’d been much time for worrying back in Storybrooke as they rushed from one crisis to another.  No wonder her love life was so messed up!  She’d lost Neal— _Bae, dammit!_ —found him again, told him she loved him, and then told him she didn’t _want_ to love him.  And then there was Hook, who could have stepped right out of the pages of some cheap romance novel, charming, handsome, and so easy to fall for. 

But she couldn’t talk to him the way she could talk to Neal, couldn’t bicker with him so comfortably or imagine Hook coming along to keep her grounded while her father fought for his life.  Had Hook offered, Emma probably would have asked one of the dwarves to come instead.  She didn’t want Hook to see her this nervous over losing a parent who she’d really only known for less than two years.  At least Neal understood how much life had messed her up. 

Turning her mind back to the present, Emma looked at Gold again. “So, _is_ this normal?” 

“Not exactly my forte, either,” was the immediate response.  The bastard shrugged casually, despite the fact that his eyes were still scanning everything but the duel. Had he watched it for one moment? “But I’d expect so.” 

“What are you doing?” she demanded, looking back at the duel.  Emma didn’t really know much about sword fighting, but her father seemed to be lighter on his feet than the Soldier.  The bigger man was fast, too, though his greater reach seemed to give him less of an advantage than Emma would have expected.  David was able to dance out of the way of most blows, blocking only those that he could not. 

Cut.  Thrust.  Block.  Thrust.  Parry.  The dance continued, one step at a time, moving blurrily fast and then agonizingly slow.  Then David drew back and waited, breathing hard.  The Soldier did the same, and the pair stood facing one another for almost a minute.  What _were_ they doing?  Emma would never have had the patience to stand there like that, just watching her opponent and waiting.  Suddenly, they moved as one, leaping into the fight again, swords sparking and glittering in the afternoon sunlight. 

“Making sure that our friend Zelena doesn’t try anything,” Gold replied easily, and even as he spoke, Emma felt a shiver race down her spine.  Something sparked at the edge of her mind, something familiar. 

“You’re working magic again.” 

Gold chuckled again even as Neal snorted.  “I’m breathing, dearie.” 

“Which is to say, yes,” her ex quipped, smiling wryly at Emma.  “Don’t take it personally.  I’m not sure that he knows how to stop.” 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” she muttered, watching as David ducked under another thrust from the Soldier and finally stepped in close to the taller man.  

He moved too fast for Emma’s eyes to follow, and suddenly Excalibur came up, lightning fast, and went straight through the leather armor that the Soldier wore.  David withdrew the legendary sword just as quickly, leaving behind a sizeable, bloody hole in the Soldier’s chest.  The giant of a man fell in a heap, his sword rattling out of his hand and bouncing away from David.  It cartwheeled across the field until the blade rolled to a stop not too far from where the Witch was standing. 

_Well, at least_ that _finally wiped the smug look off of her face._  

“Don’t even try it, dearie,” Gold’s voice rang out as he stepped forward.  

Emma had never felt particularly threatened by the slight man, but there was something in his posture that set warning bells off in her head.  He stood casually enough, his palms open and hands spread slightly away from his body.  It was an utterly unthreatening stance, yet that same shiver rolled down Emma’s spine once more as power crackled through the air.  This, Emma realized, was _Rumplestiltskin._   This was the man—or monster—who her parents had feared so much, who could make even Regina back down and had managed to scare the Blue Fairy away. 

“Try what?” The Witch’s expression was all innocence, and her smile was downright wicked. 

“Walk away while you still can, Zelena,” the sorcerer warned her. 

“I think I liked you better before you broke your curse,” she purred, moving forward a few steps, her long skirts trailing over the grass.  She stopped just inches away from the growing pool of blood around the Soldier; David had stepped back warily, watching her—but Emma’s father was still stuck between the Witch and Gold.  “You’re so very… _human_ now.  I preferred your darkness, Rumplestiltskin.” 

Gold laughed.  “Oh, there’s still plenty of darkness left, dear.  Don’t underestimate that.”  He held a finger up with a flourish, but the impish mannerisms looked more dangerous than lighthearted to Emma.  The sorcerer continued, his voice a little high pitched and almost mocking:  “But—as I’ve always been a man of my word—I’ll offer you the opportunity to keep yours.  Surrender your armies, as you promised you would do.” 

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” the Witch laughed. 

And then she vanished in a cloud of green smoke.  Emma groaned.  Then the several  hundred soldiers who’d accompanied the Witch rushed forward to attack. 

“Told you so,” Neal muttered.

 

****************

 

The battle ended quickly enough, Grumpy supposed, even if everything had gone straight to hell even faster than that.  He’d _told_ Mulan not to accept the Black Knight’s challenge, but she had to go and be a hero.  Some people, he supposed, were just that type.  _Come to think of it, I know far too many of them._ Sighing, Grumpy rolled his eyes and went back to work. 

Some people thought it was odd to have a dwarf and Storybrooke’s former town drunk in charge of treating the wounded, but he was actually rather good at it.  Between Grumpy and Astrid (who was determined not to be known as Nova now that she’d given up on being a fairy), they did a pretty damn good job, if he said so himself.  Astrid was pretty good at healing—it was pretty much the only magic she managed to do most of the time—and he knew a thing or two about patching up cuts and bruises.  If something came up that they couldn’t handle, Astrid had her own personal tablet with which to write Tink, and so far they’d managed pretty well.  And if the wounded wanted to complain about Grumpy’s bedside manner, well, that was no skin off of his back.  He really didn’t care what they thought, anyway. 

Case in point: now. 

“You’re an idiot,” he told Mulan gruffly, tightening the splint around her broken right arm.  It was a good thing the fool girl could use her sword with either hand, otherwise she’d have never defeated the Black Knight. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” she retorted defensively. 

He rolled his eyes.  “Not if you were trying to avoid a battle, sister.  In that case, fighting with the Black Knight was a spectacular failure.” 

“We won,” their general insisted. 

“Yeah, well, it was still stupid.” 

He was glad Mulan was all right, of course.  The crazy warrior girl was always really nice to Astrid, who had something of a hard time making friends.  People usually didn’t know what to do with her since she’d decided not to be a fairy (or a nun, which threw some former residents of Storybrooke off kilter, too), and sometimes that made them needlessly cruel.  Mulan, however, didn’t care what Astrid had been, and never accidentally called her Nova.  She just accepted Grumpy’s love for who she was, and that endeared Mulan to Grumpy the way nothing else would. 

“It worked,” Mulan repeated stubbornly. 

“Stupid works sometimes, okay?” Grumpy grumbled, shrugging his shoulders.  “Now keep that arm in the sling until Tink can get back here, okay?  We don’t need you breaking this one in a third place.  This time.” 

Mulan had to be the worst patient ever.  This was the fourth time in as many weeks that she’d succeeded in breaking a major bone, and unlike normal people, she usually managed to do _more_ damage to the injury before Tink could show up and heal her.  Sometimes Grumpy wondered if it was because she and Tink had become friends, and breaking things gave her more time to spend with the fairy, but he knew that wasn’t really the case.  Mulan was just plain hard on her body, and it was his self-assigned task to make fun of her for it.  Besides, mocking her passed the time, and Mulan didn’t take it personally.  Instead, she just smiled tightly at him and shrugged a one-shouldered shrug. 

“I’ll be fine,” Mulan reassured him.  “See to the others.” 

“That’d be easier if you stopped trying to destroy yourself, sister.”  Usually, Astrid would have told him to be nice by now, and that realization made Grumpy twist around as Mulan stood to walk away.  

Where _was_ Astrid?  The hospital tent had better lighting and was better ventilated than most, but it was still a tent, and the sun was going down.  That made the interior a bit murky, but squint though he did, Grumpy couldn’t see Astrid anywhere.  Scowling, he headed towards the back of the tent.  Contrary to what Mulan seemed to think, the warrior woman had been the last patient Grumpy had to deal with (because what other crazy woman would insist on waiting when her arm was broken in two places?), and he was looking forward to taking a break before dinnertime.  The battle had left him bone weary, and if he could only find Astrid— 

A yelp startled Grumpy into motion before he fully comprehended the fact that his love had made the sound.  It was followed by a scream, and he shoved his way through the tent and out the back entrance. 

_“Astrid!_ ” 

He arrived just in time to see her crumble to the ground, with a slender, dark haired man looming over her.  Astrid’s face was frighteningly blank, her brown eyes staring emptily up at the orange and red sky.  Grumpy froze.  She wasn’t _moving_ … 

“Who the hell are you?” Grumpy demanded, his heart hammering in his chest.  He was sure she was fine.  She had to be fine.  

The dark haired man looked up at him, a smile crossing angular features.  “Norco,” he replied pleasantly.  “I am Norco.” 

Obviously the name was supposed to mean _something_ to Grumpy, but he was too busy staring at Astrid.  “Get away from her,” he growled, drawing his sword. 

Norco laughed, long fingers sweeping through the air.  Without warning, Grumpy’s sword vanished right out of his hand.  The magic sent an odd chill through him, dark and nasty, and Astrid _still_ wasn’t moving.  Unarmed or no, Grumpy took a few steps forward, his hands clenching into fists.  Whoever Norco was, he’d be happy to kill this bastard with his bare hands if that’s what it took to protect Astrid. 

“Swords’ll do you no good against the fae,” Norco half-whispered, half-sighed, looking very self-satisfied.  Then he laughed merrily and disappeared. 

By the time Grumpy reached Astrid’s side, she wasn’t breathing.

 

****************

 

“I’ll make a deal with you, dear,” he said by way of greeting, and Regina turned to scowl at her old teacher as he walked into the library. 

Rumplestiltskin quirked her a smile that only made Regina’s expression darken still further.  She’d been _hoping_ for some quiet time with Robin—Roland was off with Little John for a few hours, and Henry was off with his own father—and even though the library technically belonged to Rumplestiltskin, she’d expected him to be off romancing Belle or something.  He seemed to do a lot of that, for which she was personally rather grateful, since it got him out of her hair.  But oh, no.  Now he had to come waltzing in here, throwing a comment like that her way as if she gave a damn. 

“Concerning what?” Regina snapped. 

Robin threw her an amused look, obviously hearing the complaint she hadn’t voiced, but Regina glared back. Rumplestiltskin had always brought out the worst in her, and the last thing she wanted was her old mentor deciding that he wanted to pick on her lover. 

“The Witch, of course,” the other sorcerer replied as if he’d missed the byplay between them.  _Right.  Because he misses_ so _much.  Bah._  

Rumplestiltskin folded himself into a seat across from the couch she and Robin occupied, his movements reminding Regina vividly of the imp she’d first met, rather than the so very controlled man he’d become as Mr. Gold.  It was odd now, watching him after he was no longer the Dark One; some mannerisms remained while others vanished, and sometimes he seemed solidly Gold rather than Rumplestiltskin.  Yet the power behind the sharp-edged face was still potent, even if it was different than it had been.  She’d meant to pin him down on that topic after the Blue Fairy had left, but one thing had led to another, and next she knew, the Buffalo-Leather Soldier had shown up.  Charming had fought that duel just the day before, and Regina had just now come up for air. 

Spending time with Robin had seemed so much more pleasant than talking to Rumplestiltskin, so she’d opted to do the former instead of badgering her old mentor.  _It was a good choice, too.  His curse might be broken, but he’s still a pain in the ass._  

“Oh, of course,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.  “You want to be more specific, Rumple?  Some of us have things we want to do today, and I assure you that spending time with you is _not_ on my list.” 

He laughed, of course.  The jerk.  “Regina, I’m wounded,” Rumplestiltskin quipped, a sardonic smile twisting his face up before he turned serious.  “It seems that we’re duplicating efforts.  This war of ours is only going to get longer if you and I don’t discuss how we need to go about this.” 

“Ours.”  The word startled out of her before Regina could catch it.  “You’re really signing on to help, aren’t you?” 

“Did I imply otherwise?” 

“No, but you didn’t straight out say it, either, and I know what a tricky bastard you are,” she retorted.  Neverland came to mind on that front, where he’d hared off on his own and left her with the Charmings.  And Hook.  Because having a pirate along made everything _so_ much better.  Particularly when he was busy hanging all over Emma. 

“True enough.” He waved a hand dismissively.  “But—contrary to my usual inclinations—it would appear that I’m in this for the long haul.” 

“Would ‘appear’ or you are?” Regina demanded, cutting him off. 

Rumplestiltskin frowned slightly.  “I am,” he replied firmly.  He didn’t hesitate, either, and wasn’t _that_ interesting?  “And you need to deal with the Witch.” 

She’d already planned on that, but getting him out of the way was far too easy.  Still, Regina couldn’t let the opportunity pass by.  Was there something she didn’t know, something about his relationship with Zelena that meant Rumplestiltskin either didn’t want to or couldn’t take the Wicked Witch of the West on?  She suspected that the former was more likely than the later; the Blue Fairy had run away from him, after all, and the Witch hadn’t seemed eager to cross swords with him, either, despite what she’d said to him. 

“Tell me what you are and you have a deal,” she replied with a sweet smile.  It was unlike Rumplestiltskin not to state his terms up front, and Regina would happily take advantage of that. 

That wrought a chuckle out of him.  “You don’t think I’d tell you if you just asked?” 

“Why should I start trusting you now?” she shot back. 

“Why should you stop, you mean?” Rumplestiltskin countered, making Regina scowl.  Of course she trusted him.  He’d taught her, manipulated her, and given her more power than she’d ever dreamed of, but the one thing he’d never done was _force_ her to do anything.  Regina had made her own choices, every step of the way, and although there were many things she could blame him for, her life wasn’t one of them.  Rumplestiltskin had never lied to her, and that counted for a lot inside their screwed up friendship. 

“Answer the question.” 

“In good time.” 

Regina bit back the urge to groan, and felt Robin take her hand.  Sometimes, she really thought that the outlaw was a saint; he was far too good to her.  For her.  She’d not known peace like this since she’d been in love with Daniel, and sometimes her traitorous heart even thought that this might be better.  Regina knew that the odds of someone finding True Love twice were astronomically high, and the fact that Robin had loved and lost Marian before her only made their relationship even less likely.  She’d fought against her attraction to him, particularly once she’d spotted that lion tattoo, but Regina was done fighting.  Tink had been right.  She loved him, and sometimes things were that simple.  So, she smiled at him instead of snapping at Rumplestiltskin, warmth racing through her bones. 

Besides, she was a sorceress.  How could she miss the magic inherent in kissing her True Love each time? 

“My original proposition was going to be that if you deal with the Witch, I’ll handle the Black Fairy,” Rumplestiltskin murmured after a moment, surprisingly not commenting on the two of them. 

Or maybe not surprisingly.  The man did tend to look at Belle like the world centered on her, and for once that was a feeling Regina could empathize with. 

“Can you?” she asked curiously.  The Blue Fairy was one thing—even at her worst, Regina suspected Reul Ghorm’s bark was worse than her bite.  But the Black Fairy, the original darkness, was quite another matter. 

“Yes.” 

It was remarkable.  No dissembling.  No evasion.  No clever wordplay.  _I just got a straight answer out of Rumplestiltskin.  What_ is _the world coming to?_ Regina, however, was the naturally suspicious sort.  “Then I’ll promise to deal with the Witch if you tell me what you are.” 

She was looking forward to the challenge, anyway, but it never hurt to get something out of the deal.  Even if the pure satisfaction of taking her castle back from the Witch would have been enough for Regina.  Judging from Rumplestiltskin’s smile, he knew exactly what she was doing, because he rose, light on his feet and eyes dancing. 

“You already know, dear,” he said simply. 

“Then what’s the harm in telling me?” she pressed, heart suddenly racing.  There was no way Rumplestiltskin meant what she thought he meant.  Never mind the odd flavor of the power he had no, the _difference_ in his magic.  Never mind what Tink had said, or what Regina knew instinctively.  “Better yet, just tell me _how._ ” 

He was already walking towards the door, but swooped down to whisper the word in her ear. 

“Merlin.” 

“ _What_?” Regina twisted around to watch Rumplestiltskin stride out, the pieces falling into place in her mind quickly, but not quickly enough.  It made too much sense, but—“You _bastard!_ ” 

The door shut without an answer, and she threw a book at it in frustration.  Damn him.  Damn Rumplestiltskin _again._

 

****************

 

Astrid died in Grumpy’s arms, her heartbeat slowing to nothing before help could arrive.  Inconsolable, the dwarf refused to let go of her body for hours afterwards, hoping against hope that True Love’s kiss could bring her back.  But death is not a curse, and Astrid would never wake again.  Her love would never be the same. 

 

****************

 

Deep in lands known only to fairies, three young fairies spoke quietly about the death of a woman who had once been their friend, having heard Grumpy’s heartfelt pleas for help and having arrived minutes too late.  They never saw the slender, black-haired fae approach, and the last thing they heard before death was Norco’s merry laugh.  Their fellows would find them hours later, their bodies cool to the touch and fae magic wrapped around them.  Yet a fourth fairy, the Cerulean Fairy, would fall prey to the many traps Norco left behind, and she too would join the ranks of the dead before the sun set that same day.  Two others were wounded, and fear began to spread amongst the fairy ranks.  Never before had an enemy breached their stronghold and killed their own.

 

****************

 

The Rose Fairy arrived in King Francis’ kingdom that same evening, having heeded the call of a monarch in need of aid.  One of the few repopulated towns in that kingdom had been swept up into a merry dance that morning, and as each hour passed, the frenzy with which the residents danced only increased.  Moving dizzyingly fast—but always with inhuman grace—the people of Bruges never had a chance to call for help.  It was only by luck that Prince Thomas discovered their plight, and Thomas was even more fortunate to avoid being caught in the same trap.  He rode home instead, leaping off of his exhausted horse to tell his father the news.  Francis called in the Rose Fairy, who immediately headed to Bruges to break the spell over the town. 

Being nearly as old and powerful as Reul Ghorm herself, the Rose Fairy was able to break the enchantment with difficulty, thus freeing the people of Bruges.  Unfortunately, three old men and one old woman had already danced themselves to death, and the survivors told tales of the score of beautiful young men who had been stolen before the dance even began. No one knew what happened to those youths, only that they had been of uncommon good looks and that all walked as if in a trance in the minutes before the dance began.  The Rose Fairy promised to find them, swearing to call upon her sisters as required and restore the people of Bruges’ faith in the fairies. 

As she did so, a tall woman of flaming hair stepped from the shadows, her silver and black dress swirling around her and shimmering in the darkness.  The Rose Fairy started, her eyes wide with fear, but she had always been brave, so she stepped between the villagers and the Black Fairy. 

“Begone from this town,” the Rose Fairy ordered her.  “It is under my protection.” 

Danns' a'Bhàis smiled.  “No.” 

Her hands came up—she had no wand—and moments later, the Rose Fairy crumbled to the ground, pale and dead.  The beautiful silver wand that the senior fairy had once wielded jumped easily into the Black Fairy’s hand, and she paused to study the wand for a long moment, smiling slightly.  Then her head came up, and her inhuman eyes swept over the terrified crowd.  The wand disappeared up one long sleeve. 

“You may keep your allegiance to King Francis,” she said easily, “but you will provide what I require.  Do you so, and you will perhaps see your young men again.  Understood?” 

The mayor nodded jerkily.  “Yes, milady.” 

“Good.”  Dark green eyes turned to a young woman of exceptional beauty standing near the mayor.  “Come here, child.” 

Terrified, the young woman stepped forward, curly blonde hair obscuring her face.  She was clearly a peasant, dressed in a worn but clean dress that demonstrated both her station and her refusal to be defined by it.  A young man of nineteen or so years stood nearby, built like a blacksmith and watching her with worry and affection, but the young woman took a deep breath and tried to be brave.  Despite that, she was shaking, but the Black Fairy seemed to pay that no mind. 

“What is your name, child?”

“Rosaline,” she whispered. 

“Rosaline,” the evil fairy purred, smiling again.  “You will accompany me.” 

“I—” Rosaline started, just as the blacksmith’s apprentice spoke up. 

“You can’t—” 

The Black Fairy overrode both of them, her voice soft but carrying dangerously.  “If your lover wishes to accompany you, he may. 

Rosaline flinched.  “He’s not my…” 

“Would you like him to be?” 

Curls bouncing, Rosaline’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock.  Slowly, the Black Fairy touched a finger to her chin, tendrils of magic working their way into her and the young man who loved her.  Rosaline seemed unable to find words as her previously bright eyes clouded over slightly, the magic seeping into her. 

“I will show you a world of which you have never dreamed,” the Black Fairy promised, her magic wrapping around the town.  Her eyes found the blacksmith’s apprentice, and he stepped forward against his will. 

_“Come.”_

 

****************  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments left for the last chapter! I always love hearing from readers. My questions for you: 1) Who do you think the fae will target next and 2) Do you think that Blue will reconsider her strategy of needing Henry’s heart now that her sister is out in the open? 
> 
> Stick around for Chapter 20: “Into the Tempest”, in which Emma receives an unexpected visitor, more information on Merlin is shared, and Emma makes a choice that surprises even her.


	21. Into the Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Emma is Emma, Rumplestiltskin and Belle chat, and Blue tries her hand at manipulating someone new.

**_Chapter Twenty—“Into the Tempest”_ **

 

Emma needed some air. They’d seemed to go from one crisis to another back in Storybrooke, but this was pure insanity. She’d been back for around two months, and aside from walking in circles while trying to rescue Regina, there’d hardly been a moment’s peace. Oh, the few days around Graham’s birth had seemed like a nice break, but then things had only gotten crazier. Sucked out of their normal lives and into a war, she and Henry were still a bit off balance, and although she absolutely hated to admit it, Emma was probably taking it worse than her teenaged son. Henry had always been adaptable, though. Otherwise, how could he handle having two mothers (one of which was also his adopted step-grandmother), a potential adopted stepbrother due to the outlaw who was making a fair bid to become his adopted stepfather, and a father who his birth mother didn’t know what to do with? Oh, and there was Hook, who was attempting to become father number three for Henry, as if that didn’t complicate things even further.

Groaning, Emma sat down on a fair sized rock that she’d found out by a little pool in the garden. Some sort of yellow fish swam around in the pond, but Emma had never been the fish type; they were pretty and distracting, however, so she watched them and let her mind wander. 

The last two weeks had been wild. Calm on the war front—until the duel, anyway—but an emotional whirlwind that threatened to sweep her away. Henry was so damn _happy_ having been reunited with everyone that Emma couldn’t regret coming back, but she was still trying to figure out how to cope. Her parents were wonderful, as always (overbearing, trying to make her into a Princess, and a giant font of love and acceptance), but that ache she’d been feeling in her heart hadn’t vanished. Just over a year ago, she’d yelled at Hook and Neal and told them that Henry was the only man she had room for in her heart. Then she’d watched _Regina_ , of all people, find that insane storybook love that her parents shared, and Emma hadn’t been the same ever since. 

Two weeks in the same castle with Hook and Neal— _Baelfire_ —hadn’t helped matters. Hook was a constant presence, a sexy shadow ready to be there whenever she wanted him. Bae was less bedroom eyes and more easygoing, a friendly ear for a chat or a shoulder to punch when she was frustrated. Emma remained attracted to Hook (or Killian, as he kept telling her to call him) but wasn’t sure how comfortable she was with him. She was certainly comfortable with Neal, and always had been, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit that she was attracted to him, too. But he’d always been handsome, and damn if the leather breeches and fairytale clothing didn’t suit him far better than t-shirts and jeans ever had. 

“A penny for your thoughts, Princess?” an ethereal voice suddenly inquired, and Emma’s head snapped up just in time to see a glowing blue moth turn into a woman whose clothing was far less modest here than it ever had been when she was playing at being a nun.

 “Don’t call me that,” she snapped before she could stop herself.

 “Forgive me,” Blue replied, smiling gently. “I only wished to speak to you in private.”

 Emma tried not to growl out loud. The Blue Fairy hadn’t shown herself even once during the last few weeks, and Tink had never heard of the whole Heart of the Truest Believer thing, other than from Pan in Neverland. Emma was probably the _least_ well suited person to deal with the damn fairy at the moment; she only knew what Regina and the others had told her, and she found herself missing the Evil Queen intensely in that moment. Then again, Regina would probably have tried to kill Blue, and although Emma certainly shared that urge, she knew her own mother had a point when it came to making peace with the fairy. They were in the middle of a war, and needed all the help they could get—but not if it came at the price Blue seemed willing to exact.

“If this is about Henry’s heart, you can shove your arguments up your ass,” she told the fairy bluntly. “ _No one_ is ripping my son’s heart out ever again.”

“I’m not here about that,” Blue was quick to reassure her. “I was wrong to try to get Henry to leave with me in the way I did. I was simply worried for his safety, and I overreacted. Of course he will be safe here.”

The words were right, but something in the delivery wasn’t jiving. Narrowing her eyes, Emma stood to look the fairy in the face. “Damn straight he will.”

Hadn’t her mother and Belle said something about the Blue Fairy possibly needing Henry’s heart herself? Snow didn’t want to believe it, of course, but Regina and Rumplestiltskin did, and Emma knew how trusting her mother was. But before she could bring that up, the fairy smiled gently and said:

“Actually, I am here for you, Emma. You wished upon a blue star on your twenty-eighth birthday, asking not to be alone any longer. I am here to lead you to what your heart most desires.”

“You are?” Emma repeated dubiously. _How does she know that?_ Then again, Blue was a fairy, and although Emma had only picked the blue star shaped candle because it looked neat, she supposed that an enterprising enough manipulator could twist it that way.

“Of course I am. Fairies are most concerned with helping people find their happy endings,” Blue replied. “And I want to help you find yours. Consider this an apology for my conduct concerning Henry.”

Emma frowned. “Right....”

Unfortunately, Blue seemed to take her sarcastic comment as an invitation to preach.

“You will find happiness, Emma. I know the longing in your heart, but it will not last forever. You have spent most of your life alone, but there is a man who can heal the wounds you try to pretend you do not have,” the fairy told her earnestly. “A broken heart _can_ mend with time, and you will find love.”

“If you’re just going to mouth useless platitudes at me, go bother someone else,” Emma retorted when the empty drivel trailed off. “Because unless you’re going to pull a Tink and use pixie dust to show me where my future happiness lies, I can’t see this conversation going anywhere useful.”

“I don’t need pixie dust to tell you where love will fall, child.”

“Then spit it out, will you? It’s getting cold out here, and I’m new at the whole needing a cloak thing,” she shot back.

Blue seemed to be taken aback by Emma’s bluntness. Again. _Good!_ “Your heart already knows,” she replied after a moment. “All you must do is be brave enough to embrace the love you already feel—and strong enough to resist darkness when it beckons you.”

“Darkness?” Emma echoed dubiously. “Now what are you on about?”

“You cannot trust a man who has been surrounded by darkness for most of his life, or one who comes from a long line of dark beings.”

Those words brought Emma’s hackles up instinctively. She’d been willing to put up with Blue’s holier-than-thou and know-it-all attitude until now, but the fairy had just gone from useless to annoying. And manipulative. She felt her back straighten as her eyes narrowed, and Emma skewered Blue with a glare. “You’re talking about Neal.”

“Baelfire, yes,” the fairy corrected her knowingly. “He will try to win your heart, Emma, but you _must_ not trust him. He—”

“Is Henry’s father. Are you saying I shouldn’t trust Henry because Rumplestiltskin’s his grandfather and Pan was his great-grandfather?” Emma cut her off.

“Of course not. I am simply warning you that there are great powers working here, and that Baelfire has long been the driving force behind his father’s darkness. You cannot afford to be pulled into that tempest. _You_ are the Savior.”

“You know, I think you can shut up now.” Emma tried to stuff her hands into her pockets only to discover that she didn’t have any, a stupid little thing that only made her temper burn hotter. “I didn’t ask you for relationship advice, and I sure as hell didn’t ask you to talk trash about my son’s father. Or his grandfather, for that matter. I might not always like Rumplestiltskin, but he’s done a lot more for us lately than you have, so when you’re ready to start helping instead of heaping on useless advice, just let us know. Until then, get lost.”

Blue reared back as if struck, her brown eyes wide and shocked. Emma only grinned nastily at her, and crossed her arms, daring the fairy to tell her she was wrong. _This is my life,_ Emma wanted to snarl, but didn’t bother. The Blue Fairy wasn’t about to listen to her on that front, not if her idea of helping was mouthing useless platitudes about love that could apply to _anyone_ —not just Hook, no matter what Blue obviously wanted Emma to think—so Emma wasn’t going to bother trying to talk to the stuck up woman. Fairy. Thing.

_My life,_ she thought again. _Try to warn me away from my son’s father, do you? Bitch. What did Neal ever do to you?_

“I only want to—”

“Get out of here,” Emma repeated. “Or I’ll go find Henry’s grandfather and tell him that you’re wandering around on his lands again. I bet _he’d_ be happy to see you.”

Blue left without a further word, and Emma found herself smiling. Maybe she’d just needed a good fight to help her figure things out. For some reason, she was starting to feel the same sort of malicious victory she’d felt when she’d used a chainsaw on Regina’s prize apple tree back in Storybrooke, and the energy coursing through her veins was nice. She’d been off balance for too long. Maybe it was time to get back to who Emma Swan had always been: caustic, straightforward, and willing to fight for what she believed in. Casting the fish one last glance, she headed back into the castle and decided to take her fate into her own hands.

_Screw wishing on a blue star. I know what I want. It’s time I stopped fighting myself._

 

****************

 

“She’s gone,” he said quietly, his mind drifting absently across threads of power. Rumplestiltskin had not been expecting Reul Ghorm to arrive in the courtyard of his castle, and when his wards had alerted him of the fairy’s presence—which she didn’t manage to hide, no matter how well concealed she clearly thought she was—he’d kept a magical eye on her, just to be sure. Rumplestiltskin had never trusted her, of course, but the jumbled up mix of memories inside his head brought with them an entirely different set of emotions where the Blue Fairy was concerned, which only made him more wary. Merlin really had trusted people far too easily.

But Reul Ghorm had left after speaking to Emma for a few minutes, and now he could breathe a little easier.

“Good,” Belle replied with more relish than he’d expected. Then again, Belle was still furious about what the Blue Fairy clearly intended to use Henry for, and Rumplestiltskin knew that much of her anger stemmed from the fact that Blue was _supposed_ to be good.

_On the ‘right’ side, she claims,_ he thought with a sneer. _Define ‘right,’ dearie._

“Can she break through the magic you put on Henry?” Belle asked softly when he didn’t respond.

“Not without a lot longer to work than I’ll give her.” Rumplestiltskin smiled tightly. “I cast a few other protection spells on Henry yesterday, and woe to the fool who tries to harm him.”

“ _That’s_ where you went after the duel.”

He smiled wryly. “Did you think I was sneaking around behind your back?”

Belle laughed. “Never.”

“Because you’re the only one who’d have me,” he murmured, leaning into kiss her lightly and marveling at the fact that this extraordinary woman loved him. _Him,_ despite his flaws, the evil deeds of his past, and the many morally questionable things he was still willing to do. Free of the curse or not, Rumplestiltskin knew he’d never be a pillar of goodness or decency; at best, he was trying to do the right thing for the right reasons, and using whatever methods he thought suited the situation.

“Then everyone else is a fool,” she replied with a smile, but then sobered. “Honestly, I thought you might have wandered off to work out more of those memories. Or on the magic.”

Grimacing, Rumplestiltskin had to admit she wasn’t far from the truth. While the Charmings (and their extended family) had celebrated the birth of their second child and rejoiced in the war’s sudden pause, Rumplestiltskin had done nothing of the sort. _He’d_ spent two weeks sorting through the mess within his own mind, imposing order on memories not his own and powers that he still found vaguely terrifying. In the midst of that, he’d learned that Snow White planned on holding a traditional christening ceremony for the new prince, which left him to reinforce the wards and defenses on the castle yet again. And redouble his efforts to understand this strange and bottomless power that he now possessed.

He thought he’d managed, now. His initial instincts concerning the price had been accurate, and little though he liked that, it was now a fact of his life. Unavoidable. He could do _more_ than ever before, and magic on this scale simply demanded a commiserate price, not the trivial pittances he’d been able to slake the darkness with. Much though he preferred to pass the price of magic onto others, he no longer _could_ do so most of the time. This, Rumplestiltskin had to pay himself by being that which the magic demanded he be.

Sometimes he thought it would have been easier to live without his magic than to live with this, but who would he be then? Without magic he would have been nothing. At least this gave him a purpose.

“I’m done with that,” Rumplestiltskin answered the unspoken question. “I may not like every bit of it, but I do understand what’s happened. And I’m not possessed by anything, either. Or anyone.”

“I never thought you were.” Belle’s smile was a balm for his wounds, and gave him the strength to admit:

“I wasn’t so sure.”

“Rumple…” Already sitting next to him, Belle snuggled up close, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin wrapped his left arm around her shoulders in return and closed his eyes, allowing himself to breathe in the sense of peace she always gave him. They sat in silence for several minutes while he struggled to find words to explain his misgivings, and Belle gave him the time he needed.

“There have been moments,” he finally said, “when I wasn’t so sure that the choices I was making were my own. If this new magic could drive me the way the curse used to be able to, or if I was actually deciding to be something…different than I was. Having Merlin’s memories rattling around in my head didn’t help, either.” Rumplestiltskin snorted. “Particularly given that he was the sword-swinging, self-sacrificing _hero_ type that I’ve always mocked.”

“And now?”

“They’re only memories. I can push them aside as easily as I can any of the others I inherited with the curse. Oh, there are elements of Merlin in the magic, but the Black Fairy destroyed him far too thoroughly for anything stronger to remain. She”—and here his voice cracked, remembering his own pain as well as the pain of a phantom long dead—“took thirty years to torture him into insanity, and then she shaped him. Bit by bit.”

Belle squeezed his waist tightly. “That’s horrible.”

“He was her friend. Probably her only friend.” Isolation like that was something he knew too well, but even at his darkest moments, Rumplestiltskin would never have been able to betray someone he cared for. After all, even after he’d realized what Belle meant to him, he’d driven _Regina_ to cast the Dark Curse. Even though he could have done it himself by using her heart.

He’d always been defined by who he loved, even now when he was in the midst of becoming something new. _For them._

“What happened?” Belle had read the _Historie_ , of course, and she knew what Rumplestiltskin had already told her, but he had a sense that Belle was asking how _then_ related to _now_ , and where this put the two of them in the ancient war that seemed to be rearing its ugly head once more. He’d told Regina to deal with the Witch because Rumplestiltskin knew that the real conflict lay elsewhere.

Taking a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin explained:

“After the other three human Original Powers died, the uneasy peace between the Reul Ghorm and Danns' a'Bhàis’ held for years. Centuries, maybe?” He shook his head, watching memories streak by like scenes out of a particularly foggy movie. “The details are still unclear. Merlin had held them to it, though. Then the Black Fairy had betrayed him, warped him, changed him, and thirty years later, the first Dark One rose. Eighteen others followed, each unknowingly carrying within them Merlin’s power because _he tied it to the curse._ And then I came along.”

“And you broke the curse.” Belle kissed him lightly, and Rumplestiltskin felt the magic surge within him. Not for the first time, he wondered how differently things might have gone if he’d allowed Belle to break his curse in the Enchanted Forest. But wondering what might have been would only cripple him, so Rumplestiltskin pushed past the thought.

“Yeah.” Visions danced through his mind, forcing him to clamp down on his own Sight. That power could be a true nuisance sometimes, but it was one he was stuck with. “The interesting thing, Belle, is that Merlin wasn’t a Seer. But I think he knew that the curse would someday be broken. So here I am, filling his shoes.”

“Because you have to, or because you want to?”

He grimaced. “Because I don’t have a choice.   Much though I’d like to throw them all out and tell them to fend for themselves, the balance of power here in the Enchanted Forest is shifting. Danns' a'Bhàis’ willremain free because there’s no way Reul Ghorm is getting Henry’s heart, and that means that _someone_ has to keep the two of them from tearing the Enchanted Forest apart between them—and all of us with it. I just hope someone appreciates the cosmic irony of that someone being me.”

If his voice grew sing-songy and self-loathing on that last sentence, Belle did not comment. Instead, she kissed him on the forehead.

“I told you that your heart was true.”

Someone who knew him less well might have said something foolish like _I told you you were a good man_ , to which he could have replied that he wasn’t, but Belle wasn’t so idealistic. She truly did love him for what he was, and she understood that this wasn’t easy. Stepping up and taking responsibility had never been something Rumplestiltskin had been good at; he’d always manipulated others into taking on those roles. Yet here he was, willing to stand in the midst of the storm and demand that it _stop._ Because if he didn’t, no one would, and Rumplestiltskin had to live in this world, too. And so did his family. _He_ might be able to survive whatever the two fairies threw at one another, but Belle, Bae, and Henry—and by extension, all the others who had somehow become extended family—wouldn’t. And that was where he drew the line.

For him, it would never be about doing the right thing, much though the magic might demand that kind of price. For Rumplestiltskin it would always be about protecting those he loved.

 

****************

 

“Everything all right, love?” Hook asked the morning after the Blue Fairy tried to warn Emma away from Baelfire, and she turned to give the pirate a long look.

“Fine,” Emma replied shortly, not knowing why the very familiar address got under her skin. Perhaps it was a direct result of her mother’s most recent lecture on acting like a princess—delivered just an hour earlier—or maybe it was because of the way Hook leaned in to speak to her, as if he was whispering sweet nothings in her ear instead of making legitimate conversation. Not for the first time, Emma felt shame tighten her insides; magic or no, how could she have let herself lose control like she had in the forest? She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to look at Hook without remembering the wild feeling of lust and not-quite-right.

It wasn’t fair to Hook, she knew, but how else was she supposed to feel? Even now the pirate captain was looking at her with confusion, clearly wondering why Emma was so irritated with him.

“Everything’s fine,” she repeated more naturally. “It’s just been a long morning.” _And only getting longer._ She was due for a dress fitting, of all things, in just a few minutes, and Emma had hoped to have a few minutes to herself before the seamstresses attacked her. Had they been fitting her for anything less than her brother’s christening, Emma would gladly have played hooky, but even Henry was getting new clothes for the occasion, and Emma wasn’t going to snub little Graham like that.

“I’m sure it is, Emma,” Hook replied dubiously, and then gave her a gentle smile. “If you need anything—or just someone to talk to—I’ll always be willing to lend an ear.”

She shook her head. “Right now I just need to go for a walk.”

“Of course.”

Gratefully, Emma swept by as Hook stepped out of her way, but this time she didn’t head outside. She couldn’t be certain that the Blue Fairy wouldn’t accost her if she did, and Emma just wasn’t up to fighting off that motherly manipulator at the moment. Instead, she headed deeper into the castle, not really paying attention to where her feet were taking her until she finally noticed that she was standing in front of a wooden door in the west wing. Had it been shut, she probably would have kept on walking, but since it was partially open, Emma found herself pushing the door aside and stepping in.

Her ex-boyfriend was reading a book, but he looked up when she barged in. “Hear you had a row with your mom,” Neal commented.

Sighing, Emma plopped down on the bed next to him, surprised by how natural doing so felt. “She wants me to act like a princess.”

“She’s one to talk,” he replied with a laugh. “Didn’t Henry tell me that she met your dad by braining him with a rock?”

“Something like that.” Emma couldn’t help snickering as Neal put the book aside. “I have to get fitted for a dress. A _huge_ dress, I’m sure. With hoops and corsets and everything.”

“I really hope that you’re wrong about multiple corsets,” was the immediate response. “That could get painful.”

She smacked him lightly on the shoulder as he made a face at her. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. I mean, it’s not like I know much about fashions here in the Enchanted Forest—or about women’s fashions anywhere, really—but that would have to suck.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Emma complained.

“It’s what I’m good at,” he shot back with a grin, and damn she remembered how that look used to be able to make her melt. Emma had been terribly in love with Neal Cassidy once, and if he hadn’t sent her to jail at Pinocchio’s bidding, she probably would have married him. _Wouldn’t_ that _have made Henry’s life different?_ But dwelling on what might have been had never been their style, which was probably why he continued lightly: “Seriously, though, it’s not like you’ve never worn a dress before. You even look damn good in one. So why are you all worked up about it?”

Neal— _Baelfire,_ Emma reminded herself for the thousandth time—really did still know her too well. She shrugged uneasily.

“It’s just that they have all these crazy expectations,” she finally answered, her voice quiet. “My mother was _raised_ to be a princess. I ran away from three foster homes before they finally let me out of the system, and I met you when I stole the car you’d already stolen. I’m not princess material, even if I technically am one. I’m the sort that’ll punch someone in the face before I curtsey to them, and I tried to shoot the first dragon I ever met. With a _gun._ I don’t _fit_ that mold, and everyone wants me to.”

“So, what you’re saying is that it’s not the dress.”

That made her hit him again, a little harder. Neal cringed and rubbed his shoulder as Emma grimaced. “Of course it isn’t, you jerk.”

“At least Graham’s their heir now, right?” he asked.

“Him or Henry, I hope.” Emma shrugged. “So long as it’s not me. I’m really not suited to be a Queen. And at least I think I convinced my dad of that. My mother’s another story.”

“Stubborn does seem to run in your family,” he teased, and Emma made another face at him.

“You’re one to talk.”

“We’re the manipulative bastard types more than stubborn, actually,” Neal countered cheerfully. “Took me awhile to embrace that, but hell. If you’ve got a skill, you should use it, right?”

“That means you’re going to have to go back to the army soon, doesn’t it?” Emma didn’t know why that thought suddenly bothered her so much, but she’d spent a lot of time talking to Neal as she worked her way through the maelstrom of life in the Enchanted Forest. He’d been there for her during the duel, a solid presence that didn’t demand anything out of Emma and just stood by her side when she needed someone. Emma had never wanted a man to treat her like she was made of glass, and there were times she sure as hell didn’t want to admit that there was anything wrong. Sometimes she just wanted someone to be there and say nothing, and Neal was damn good at that.

“Sooner or later, yeah. Probably sooner.”

“Oh.” How had her voice turned so small on that word?

As usual, he countered her sudden attack of sadness with an ill-timed joke. “Ah, you know you’ll miss me. When you’re not romancing Hook.”

“Neal!” Why was she turning red? Emma sputtered: “That wasn’t me. That was magic. You _know_ that.”

“Robin said as much, yeah.” Then he got a look at the mortified expression she had to be wearing, and relented. “I’m sorry. Bad joke. What I meant to say is that if you really want him, if Hook’s the one you want to love, I’ll get out of his way. I might not want to—and I’m sure as hell not going away, because Henry’s my kid, too—but I’ll step aside. If that’s what _you_ want.”

_“No.”_ The single word answer came out a lot more forcefully than Emma intended it to, and she blinked. But she’d come here for a reason, hadn’t she? So she blurted the next words out in a hurry before she could lose her nerve. “Apparently I need some sort of escort for this christening thing in two days.”

“Yeah, I hear princesses aren’t supposed to go stag,” Neal quipped, and Emma resisted the urge to strangle him even as a smile crept onto her face. But she’d always appreciated his sense of humor more than anything, even when it was utterly irreverent.

“You want to go with me?”

There. She’d asked without dying of embarrassment.

But Emma didn’t _want_ to be alone, and she didn’t want to spend the time being seduced or otherwise courted. She just wanted to be comfortable, to be with someone who understood her, who’d seen her at her worst and still loved her. Years of heartbreak told her that she didn’t _want_ to love Neal, but maybe it was time that she let that go. Maybe it was time that she remembered how he made her feel, and how horrible she’d felt when she thought Neal was dead. How it felt like a hole had been ripped in her heart that would never be filled, no matter how hard she fought for Henry, the kid they’d created with their love. She’d gone to Tallahassee, after all, and had spent two years hoping he’d show up.

_This place doesn’t look much like Florida, but why the hell not?_

A slow smile was blooming on Neal’s face in response to her question. Even as Emma’s heart started beating faster, as fear that he might not want _her_ any more started to take hold, the old, carefree grin appeared. He’d worn that smile while robbing convenience stores and sneaking into hotel rooms that weren’t theirs, and when pretending Emma was pregnant and “rushing” her out of sticky situations. It was the grin she’d fallen in love with when he’d bamboozled that cop into thinking the car was his and he was trying to teach her to drive a stick, and Emma suddenly felt dizzy. Maybe, just maybe, home wasn’t a place at all.

“I’d love to,” Neal replied seriously, and Emma smiled back, feeling her heart flutter just a little.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few answers here, and lots of Emma being Emma. To answer a few questions readers asked lately or ones I never provided answers for: 
> 
> 1\. Sir Gingalain is the son of a fae and Sir Gawain. Some legends name his mother, others don’t, but the important thing there is that the Buffalo-Leather Soldier was half-fae.
> 
> 2\. Rumplestiltskin did indeed inherit Merlin’s power, since Merlin tied it to the curse of the Dark One. He couldn’t use all of it as the Dark One, but now that the curse is broken, he’s able to access the non-dark portions of that power.
> 
> 3\. All of the scenes in which we have seen the Blue Fairy thus far have indeed been Blue herself. No one has impersonated her—which isn’t to say that someone might not in the future.
> 
> Thank you all again for sticking with me! Stay tuned for Chapter Twenty-One: “Dance of Life”, in which the day of baby Graham’s christening arrives. And I’m sure all my fairy tale readers know what an opportunity a christening usually is for evil—they like to show up and ruin the day. Guess which one shows up, and I’ll give you a cookie. :) 
> 
> One last note – if you haven’t checked out my new one-shot, “Feed the Madness” and need some Rumplestiltskin post 3x13, please do!


	22. Dance of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Baelfire gets a surprise, Henry proves surprisingly intuitive, and an unexpected guest arrives at the christening.

**_Chapter Twenty-One—“Dance of Life”_ **

 

He’d contemplated not showing up, but Belle would have been disappointed in Rumplestiltskin if he’d taken the coward’s way out and found another useful place to be.  Although the event was officially billed as Prince Graham’s christening, it had turned into a who’s-who of the Grand Alliance, with the Dark Castle decked out with every conceivable decoration—an effort he was quite certain Regina was to blame for.  Even if Rumplestiltskin didn’t _want_ to be a part of any of this (and oh, he didn’t, so very much, but there really weren’t any other options.  Not if he wanted to decide his own fate, anyway), he’d somehow stepped into a role amongst the Alliance’s leaders. 

The position still chaffed, but somehow his showdown with Blue—and loaning Excalibur to Charming without asking for anything in return—seemed to have helped matters.  Giving Queen Eva’s necklace back to Snow had utterly shocked the young queen, but Rumplestiltskin thought he’d earned himself a measure of trust in doing so, particularly so unexpectedly.  Snow was actually wearing the necklace today, he saw, a fact that made him smile to himself.  _Think I’m going soft all you want, dearie,_ he thought with a touch of his old glee.  _I’m just stacking up the trust for when I need it later, because I’m quite certain that I’m going to_.  After all, at heart Rumplestiltskin was still the man who had spent decades manipulating events to reach one specific moment; why in the world would he change now? 

“Smile, Rumple,” Belle hissed just as the herald announced: 

“Rumplestiltskin and the Lady Belle!” 

He had no need of a fancy title.  There wasn’t a soul in the room—or in the entirety of the Enchanted Forest, really—who needed to be told that Rumplestiltskin was a sorcerer.  He was no longer the Dark One.  So why bother with anything complicated?  Sometimes simple really was better, and the mere mention of his name was still enough to make people shiver.  Curse broken or not, Rumplestiltskin still found that fact extremely satisfying.  Better he might be trying to be, but he wasn’t above being feared.  It was useful. 

Heads turned to stare at them as they swept into the room.  Clad in a gorgeous dress of burgundy and gold, Belle drew the most attention, a state of affairs that didn’t bother him in the slightest.  Her hair was styled in a fashion that reminded Rumplestiltskin of the day they had first met, back when he’d had no idea what this stubborn and defiant young woman would come to mean to him, only that she’d be _important_ somehow.  He’d given her the jewels she was wearing just that morning, and although Belle teased him for trying to buy her affections, Rumplestiltskin was more than a little pleased by the overall image she presented.  With her easy grace and beauty, Belle looked more than equal to any queen, and more beautiful than most of them.  There wasn’t an unattached man in the room whose eyes didn’t follow her, but _Belle’s_ gaze was on him. 

There weren’t words to describe utterly warm and peaceful feeling Rumplestiltskin encountered every time he even thought about Belle, the way she gave him strength and how much he loved her.  He was only grateful that she felt the same way, else he’d have fallen all over himself trying to explain it.  _True Love_ defied definition, but when she smiled up at him like this, he felt almost worthy of her affections.  

But he still felt his expression soften as he looked at her, felt an answering smile sneaking onto his face despite his lack of desire to join this Christening Ball.  Oh, he knew that he needed to be there.  He didn’t have to like _parties_ to recognize how necessary it was.  And of course there’d be no leaving early, no sneaking out once he’d made an appearance for appearances’ sake.  No, Belle had been born for this kind of thing, and he’d not take that away from her. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, as if she could read his mind. 

“For what?” Rumplestiltskin tried to frown at her, even teasingly, but Belle’s smile put a damper on that expression. 

“Coming with me,” Belle replied, her arm light on his black and gold clad arm.  Rumplestiltskin had abandoned the leather coat and dressed for the occasion; dislike balls though he did, he was hardly the type to dress down.  A teasing gleam entered her eyes.  “And for smiling.” 

“Only for you.” 

“Good.”  Belle giggled softly.  “I’m the jealous type, you know.” 

One eyebrow rose; a smile tugged at his lips.  “Are you?” 

“Of course I am.”  The naughty twinkle in her eye made desire twitch inside him, but Rumplestiltskin ruthlessly suppressed his baser nature.  The Enchanted Forest was different from Storybrooke in a lot of ways, one of which was the fact that an unmarried man and woman really _shouldn’t_ be sharing a bedchamber the way they were.  They’d all somewhat adopted the mores of the Land Without Magic while they’d been there, but now that they were back home, society was slowly returning to what they’d all once viewed as normal.  Of course, sorcerers usually ignored silly things like social morals, but Belle wasn’t a sorceress.  _She_ was the daughter of an influential landed knight, and better things were expected of her. 

She was certainly expected to take up with someone better than _him,_ that was for sure.  But he’d never be quite suicidal enough to suggest that to Belle; she’d undoubtedly tell him what a fool he was, and then stick around, anyway.  Perhaps he was a coward not to tell her that she should find someone new, or perhaps he had finally learned to believe that she really could love him as much as he loved her.  Still, Rumplestiltskin knew that their continued association didn’t exactly paint Belle in a flattering light, even if most people seemed to accept him as slightly less evil these days. 

_Marrying her would fix that problem,_ the traitorous voice of logic reminded him, and Rumplestiltskin tried not to wince.  How could he explain away the fact that he’d _not_ proposed to the love of his life already?  Oh, there were plenty of excuses: his own inability to tell the truth, her memory loss, his trip to Neverland, and then his supposed death.  But someday he knew he was going to have to scrape up the courage to ask her, to pull out the ring that he’d made back in Storybrooke (with his gold, of course, and layers and layers of protective magics to protect her even against him) and ask Belle.  Probably before one of the many people who hated him said something obnoxious about it, too. 

Given the way her father was glaring at the pair of them now, Sir Maurice was in the why-couldn’t-Rumplestiltskin-stay-dead camp.  He was in good company; King Francis still hadn’t forgiven Rumplestiltskin for the stunt with his granddaughter (useless though he thought Alexandra was for the succession), and his son was even more angry.  Bae had mentioned once that the old deal still created a lot of tension between himself and Prince Thomas…and the fact that Rumplestiltskin’s son had just shown up with Princess Emma on his arm probably didn’t help that one bit. 

Henry was with them, looking incredibly self-satisfied.  Was the clever lad responsible?  If so, Rumplestiltskin would be more proud than ever to call Henry his grandson.  He was turning out to be a proper little manipulator, brilliant in all the right ways.  Bae looked a little embarrassed when Belle caught the couple’s gazes and dragged Rumplestiltskin that way, telling Emma how gorgeous she looked and making the young princess fidget uneasily.  Baelfire was obviously trying not to look too out of place, and finally said to his father in an undertone: 

“Do I look as ridiculous as I feel?  David gave me this to wear.” 

Now was probably not the time to comment on Charming’s usual lack of fashion sense; what the king had come up with fit Bae rather well.  “You look fine, Bae.” 

“I keep telling him that, but for some reason he won’t believe me,” Emma got in, shooting Bae a glare that made Henry beam. 

“You both look wonderful,” Belle got in before Rumplestiltskin could figure out how to disengage himself from this suddenly loaded conversation, and her sheer earnestness seemed to overcome the awkwardness.    

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a blush, Miss Swan?” The words escaped before Rumplestiltskin could stop himself, and for a moment, he thought his son might actually kick him.  Henry, however, was snickering. 

Emma glared.  “Shut up, Gold.” 

“I keep telling you that isn’t my name, dearie,” he countered lightly.  No, some things didn’t change, and he was…glad. 

“Yeah, and I’ll keep ignoring you,” she shot back, and then turned the death glare on her child.  “And don’t you start, kiddo, or I’ll tell Grace about the crush you had on her.” 

Henry went beet red right away, and mumbled something about finding his little uncle, and bolted.  Bae looked at Emma with a lopsided smile.  “That was a little mean.” 

“If you wanted a nice girl, you should have had my mother steal the car you’d already stolen,” Emma retorted, making Belle giggle and Rumplestiltskin chuckle. 

“Hey, you asked me to this shindig.” 

Wasn’t _that_ interesting.  Rumplestiltskin felt his right eyebrow approaching his hairline, particularly as the mournful expression on a certain pirate’s face caught his eye.  He’d known that Bae was worried that Emma would be so distracted by Hook’s suave attempts to seduce her that he wouldn’t have a chance, but it looked like his son had somehow gotten the upper hand.  Or maybe Emma wasn’t as interested in Hook as Bae had been worried she was. 

“Shut up,” Emma cautioned him, noticing the expression.  

Rumplestiltskin raised his hands in mock surrender.  “I hadn’t said a word.” 

“Then don’t start.” 

“He won’t,” Belle got in to promise for him as Rumplestiltskin gave her a dirty look.  She smiled sweetly.  “Rumple’s on his best behavior.” 

“I am?” he asked just as Emma echoed: 

“He is?” 

“Yes.”  Belle came up on her tip toes to kiss him lightly on the cheek, and Rumplestiltskin knew she’d won when she did that.  He hadn’t intended to deliberately antagonize anyone this evening, anyway—having his curse broken _did_ help in that regard; at least he could manage to stop himself when he wanted to—so Rumplestiltskin supposed that being nice to Emma wasn’t that terrible.  Besides, she was there with Bae, and given the way his son was laughing at him now, Bae was happy with that. 

Under normal circumstances, Rumplestiltskin hated being laughed at about as much as he hated anything, but this was his son.  Seeing Baelfire happy was worth even Emma’s gloating expression, particularly because the princess wasn’t smirking _too_ hard. 

He even managed to be on his best behavior when talking to the Charmings a few minutes later, and only snapped a little bit at Regina—who gave as good as she got, of course, but that was half the fun of baiting his former student.  Belle smiled and greeted all and sundry, always gracious even to those who looked askance at her for being with him.  Rumplestiltskin received more than a few wary and cautious looks of his own (not that either was a novel experience for him), and he heard a couple of people muttering about how they’d expected him to go all gray-gold and scaly again.  But the organized festivities finally took the place of the whispers, with the official presentation of Prince Graham garnering all of the expected _oohs_ and _ahs_ when Queen Snow held the crying child up for all to see.

Frankly, Rumplestiltskin had never understood the need for a royal christening at all.  All it really did was give some unscrupulous magic user the chance to pop a curse on the wee babe, not to mention the opportunity to do so _publically_ and embarrass the monarchs whilst doing so.  He’d never stooped to such a level himself, but knew the rules of the game well enough.  Which was why he was now watching out for that very same thing.  _The world really is upside down when the former Dark One is the sorcerer you’re depending upon to keep your baby prince safe…and I’m actually_ doing _it._  

Interestingly enough, Zelena was nowhere to be seen, obviously having chosen to disregard the fact that the Charmings actually had sent her an invitation.  Maleficent was there, however.  Though she’d usually be good for a curse or two, with Regina as Graham’s godmother, it was a given that Maleficent would be on her best behavior.  It really was a pity that Zelena hadn’t shown up.  They might have ended the war in one shot, and he half expected to see her make an entrance as Regina swore—with a straight face, no less!—to let no evil befall the babe she was promising to protect.  But the Witch was not so forthcoming, so he just watched the scene play out with half his attention, magic tingling at his fingertips with nothing to do.  He half wished _someone_ would curse the damn baby.  At least it would make things more interesting. 

Finally, however, one of the nurses took the now-remarkably quiet baby (Rumplestiltskin suppressed a smile, having felt the light sleeping spell Regina put on Graham when she’d been holding him) and the traditional festivities continued.  That meant it was time for speeches, of which both Snow and Charming each had one, though Regina had mercifully declined that honor; like him, Regina was still somewhat of a pariah.  Trying not to fidget—and thinking of all the mischief he’d have freely indulged in were he still the Dark One—Rumplestiltskin let his mind drift.  Thankfully, both royals were to the point; Charming had been born a shepherd and Snow was the direct type, so neither waxed poetic for too long.  Then it was time to move onto the part of the ceremony where the King and Queen in question elevated a few people in honor of the new prince’s birth.  Usually, that meant handing out a lordship or a knighthood or two, though the thought of handing out lordships over lands they hadn’t won back yet was just a bit ridiculous.  Fortunately, Charming agreed with Rumplestiltskin on that front, so the king only said: 

“Snow and I discussed who we wanted to honor today, and we agreed that it might be a bit early to be granting lordships when we haven’t won the kingdom back yet.”  The crowd chuckled obediently, though Rumplestiltskin thought he detected some actual wry humor in a few voices.  “But there is one person who we did want to recognize for his efforts thus far in the war.  Baelfire, please step forward.” 

Belle made a small noise of surprise from his left while the crowd parted to let Bae through.  He’d been relatively near the front, but Emma had obviously been trying to hide a bit while the attention was on her baby brother.  Now, however, everyone turned to stare at the pair while Emma glared at her father, clearly shocked.  _Interesting that they told_ me _and didn’t tell Emma,_ Rumplestiltskin thought to himself, not bothering to hide his smile this time.  None of them had warned Bae, of course, who looked wary and more than a little startled. 

“Kneel, please,” Charming instructed Bae, who thankfully managed not to say anything ridiculous and just did as he was told.  His wide eyes said that Bae was starting to catch on, however, and Rumplestiltskin had never seen his son struck so speechless as he was when Charming drew Excalibur. 

Because, damn it all, he’d let the young king keep the sword.  For now.  It was still a loan—Rumplestiltskin didn’t like the idea of a weapon that could kill _him_ as easily as it could kill the Black Fairy running around outside his control—but he couldn’t ignore the fact that Charming would probably need the sword again.  And now he was knighting Baelfire with it, which was somehow fitting. 

“Arise, Sir Baelfire,” Charming intoned, and Belle’s grip on Rumplestiltskin’s arm was hard enough that he thought it might leave bruises.  Good bruises, though.  She was smiling hard enough that the expression almost hurt _his_ face.  A quick glance right revealed that Emma Swan was just as happy, and Henry was absolutely beaming, clearly trying not to bounce up and down in excitement. 

Bae, for his part, looked as pleased as he did stunned.  Charming sheathed Excalibur and held out a hand for Bae to shake, which Bae took with a lopsided smile. 

“Thank you,” Rumplestiltskin’s son said a little breathlessly. 

“You’ve more than earned it,” the king replied, but it was Snow who led the applause.  Some of the more snobbish nobles in the room looked like their noses were bent out of joint by Baelfire’s elevation, but most of the cheers were honest enough.  Resisting the urge to mentally compile a list of those who _didn’t_ look happy, Rumplestiltskin concentrated on watching his son accept the congratulations he’d earned.  None of them would have thought that Bae would turn out to be such a successful general, but he had, and Rumplestiltskin was damn proud of him.  A few minutes later, however, his son approached him—with Henry in tow as Emma whispered accusingly with her parents—and grumbled: 

“You knew.  You knew and you didn’t tell me.” 

He tried an innocent smile on for size.  “Now why would I do a thing like that?” 

“ _Papa._ ” 

“I promised Charming that I wouldn’t ruin his surprise,” Rumplestiltskin admitted as Belle joined Bae in giving him a hard look. 

“You could have _warned_ me,” Bae objected, but he could see the smile lurking in his son’s eyes.  Henry finally interjected: 

“I think you just wanted to surprise him, too,” his grandson said with another wide smile.  And what could he say when faced with that much optimistic honesty?  Rumplestiltskin had to smile. 

“Maybe a little.” 

“You deserve it, Bae,” Belle chimed in.  “The knighthood, more than the surprise.” 

“You do,” Rumplestiltskin added, clearing his throat and forging onwards despite his own discomfort.  He hated saying things like this around people, with an audience he was striving valiantly to ignore, but—“And I am damn proud of you, son.  I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I am.”

His throat was suspiciously tight by the time he finished speaking, but judging from the gruffness in Bae’s voice, his son knew how he felt.  “I know, Papa.” 

Rumplestiltskin pulled his son into an embrace, not caring who was watching.  They had few enough moments like this during the messed up lives they lived, so he’d damn well take advantage of this one while it lasted.

 

****************

 

Two hours later, the formal dinner was done and people had started dancing. Rumplestiltskin might have bowed out then had Belle not dragged him out onto the dance floor, and he found himself truly dancing for the first time since his marriage to Milah.  He didn’t think of those days often—over three hundred years had passed since he’d been a simple human spinner, uncrippled and enough full of optimism to lose himself dancing.  Oh, he’d spun Cinderella maliciously around the dance floor, and done the same to the odd desperate noblewoman or two over the years, but he’d not actually _danced._   All of Rumplestiltskin’s memories about dancing were colored by youthful hopes that had later been crushed, and he’d not cared to dredge those up. 

Belle, however, _was_ his hope, and for her he’d brave far worse horrors than the demons of his past, even if it meant testing out the healing job he’d done on his leg and taking a turn or two on the dance floor.  Particularly when it made her smile like this. 

“See?  I told you that you could have fun if you let yourself,” Belle said to him after their third dance, by which time people had gotten sick of staring at the infamous former (though not all of them seemed convinced of that) Dark One on the dance floor. 

Despite himself, Rumplestiltskin smiled.  “I did tell you that I was going to start listening to you from now on.” 

“Well, good.”  Her grin was cheeky, but the love shining in Belle’s eyes was plain.  They’d had their rocky moments, and probably always would, because Rumplestiltskin knew he wasn’t the best at doing the right thing, but—Belle groaned quietly, her face falling.  “Oh, no.” 

“What is it, sweetheart?” 

“My father’s coming this way.  I think he’s going to try to cut in.” 

Offering to turn Sir Maurice into a snail was on the tip of his tongue, but Rumplestiltskin bit the urge back.  “Do you want to dance with him?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” Belle replied quietly.  “I should.” 

“Say the word, and I’ll whisk us away,” Rumplestiltskin offered. 

Belle, however, shook her head.  “We need to clear the air between us,” she said bravely.  “Or at least I need to.  He may not like my choices, but they’re mine, and I’m not going to let him change my mind.” 

Leaning forward as they danced, Rumplestiltskin kissed her on the forehead, not caring who was watching.  “I never thought he would.” 

“Thank you.”  She smiled at him again, and then Rumplestiltskin relinquished Belle to her father, shooting the knight a sly smile that he knew made Maurice squirm inside.  What little desire he’d ever possessed to make amends with Sir Maurice had vanished when Belle’s father had tried to send her over the town line.  Now he was barely willing to tolerate the man for Belle’s sake, but not being the Dark One didn’t lessen his urge to turn Maurice into something and squash him. 

Weaving his way through other dancers, Rumplestiltskin gladly abandoned the dance floor, aiming to slide into the shadows and spend some time without people watching him.  However, his bid for anonymity was hijacked by his grandson, who seemed to have gotten bored with watching his parents dance.  Henry was just old enough to start discovering girls, Rumplestiltskin realized, but young enough that the lad still felt undoubtedly awkward in their presence.  There weren’t a lot of kids at the christening—even Graham was back in his nursery by now—and Henry looked a bit lost while Regina danced with Robin and the Charmings talked politics with Abigail and Midas. 

“Hey, Grandpa Gold,” Henry greeted him with a sunny smile that Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help returning.  How Henry had decided to call him that, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure, but the name had stuck, and he found himself not minding at all. 

“Hey, Henry.  Bored?” 

The boy shrugged.  “A little.  It was fun when Grandpa knighted Dad, but now everyone’s just dancing.  Mom and Mom both danced with me, but now they’re dancing with Robin and Dad, and it’s not like I want to interrupt _either_ of those dances.  I hung out with Hook for awhile, but I think he’s getting drunk.  So I came to visit you.” 

Rumplestiltskin tried not to snort in amusement and failed, and was rewarded by another grin out of his grandson.  “Trying to play matchmaker, are we?” 

“Apparently it runs in our family,” Henry replied cheerfully.  “Didn’t _you_ do that with my other grandparents?” 

“Guilty as charged.”  Oh, he could argue, but it really was quite amusing when he thought about things that way. 

“I think you should tell them,” Henry said abruptly, turning serious eyes on his grandfather. 

Alarm bells started screeching in his head, but years of experience controlling his facial expressions enabled Rumplestiltskin to ask mildly: “Come again?” 

“Dad told me about the Merlin thing.  And I think you’re wrong.  They’re not going to think you’re more evil just because you have more power now.”  Henry looked him square in the eye, and Rumplestiltskin blinked, unable to hide his shock.  “Trust is important.  If you want them to trust you, you have to trust them, too.” 

Telling Henry that he didn’t care if Snow and Charming trusted him was on the tip of Rumplestiltskin’s tongue, but better judgment won out.  He’d given Snow back her mother’s necklace for precisely that reason.  He didn’t _need_ the Charmings’ trust, but it would make future challenges easier to handle, particularly if Reul Ghorm continued in her quest to take this very boy’s heart.  He’d told the Blue Fairy that they’d be having a chat about her sister one of these days before realizing that Reul Ghorm wanted to use his _grandson’s_ heart to trap the Black Fairy, but he would have been a lot _less_ civil had he known that first.  Having allies was still a new experience for him, and Rumplestiltskin still liked to play his cards close.  The more he told the Charmings, the more information was likely to get out… 

Yet Henry had a point.  Trust was important.  He just wasn’t used to receiving it.  Or giving it. 

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said slowly, letting a breath out and banishing his instinctual desire to brush Henry off.  He wasn’t going to make any promises, not yet, but perhaps he should say something.  “I’ll think about it,” he told Henry. 

“Okay.”  Another smile, and damn the boy was too clever for his own good. No wonder he’d been able to shepherd his stubborn and doubting mother through breaking the Dark Curse.  No one else would have managed that in a million years. 

“I’m not making any promises, mind you,” Rumplestiltskin cautioned his grandson, but Henry’s smile never wavered. 

“Of course you aren’t,” Henry replied confidently.  “I know you’ll do the right thing.” 

That made him chuckle.  “Oh, do you now?” 

“Yup.”  Brown eyes met brown, and why did Rumplestiltskin get the feeling that his grandson saw straight into his tattered soul?  “You’re different now.  You don’t have to fight the darkness like you used to, and I think you’re a good man under that.” 

“I’m…flattered, Henry,” he said after a moment, groping for words.  Then he managed a wry smile.  “But don’t think too highly of me.  I fear you’ll be disappointed.” 

“No, I won’t.”  Suddenly distracted, Henry’s head whipped around to look at someone else before he shot Rumplestiltskin another dazzling smile.  “I know I won’t.” 

For the first time in decades, Rumplestiltskin literally had no idea what to say.  He could only stare at his grandson in shock, and barely managed to react when the teenager wrapped his arms around him and gave Rumplestiltskin a quick hug.  Stunned, he could only blink, and finally managed to say: “Thank you, Henry.” 

“You’re welcome.”  Then within moments, Henry was a teenager again, spotting a friend and ready to dart off.  “Gotta go.” 

Chuckling, Rumplestiltskin watched his grandson bounce over to join Jefferson’s daughter and a few other youths.  Henry’s confidence in him utterly floored him—he’d finally earned Bae’s trust, and was accustomed to Belle’s unwavering faith, but this was new.  It left him almost breathless and just a little off-balance, but the warm feeling of family growing inside him was nice.  Experience told Rumplestiltskin that _belonging_ like this wouldn’t last—yet what if he was wrong?  What if everything actually had changed, and this was just a beginning?  _Heart of the Truest Believer, indeed._   

A smile wormed its way onto his face, and he felt his eyes drift back to Belle on the dance floor.  She and her father appeared to be speaking civilly, and Belle didn’t look as distressed as he’d feared she would.  Not that the fact that Maurice was treating her halfway decently made Rumplestiltskin hate him less.  Some things really didn’t change…but there were suddenly a _lot_ of people dancing.  Even Henry was heading out to the dance floor with Grace, and Rumplestiltskin would have pegged his grandson as the _last_ boy who’d manage to ask a girl to dance.  Still, maybe she’d asked him— 

Magic tingled at the edge of his consciousness, and a voice out of his nightmares spoke from behind him. 

“Would you care to dance, old friend?” 

Slowly, with his heart pounding in his ears, Rumplestiltskin turned to face Danns' a'Bhàis.  Dance of Death.  _Of course._ He could feel the tendrils of magic snaking out, harmless for now as couples took to the dance floor and the orchestra struck up a stately tune.  She held a porcelain white hand out to him with a smile, waiting gracefully for his response without so much of a hint of the impatience he knew boiled within her.  Flaming red hair was swept up above her all-too-perfect face, creating an utterly otherworldly image of power and grace.  Merlin had admired her, even loved her, Rumplestiltskin knew, before she’d torn him to shreds.  _Rumplestiltskin_ had feared her, but now faced Danns' a'Bhàis on equal terms. 

Layers of power swept around her like the black and silver dress she wore, dark and light, sharp and soft.  She _was_ power in the same way an angry Reul Ghorm had been…in the same way he was. 

Did she know that?  She’d called him old friend, as though she were expecting Merlin, and realization hit Rumplestiltskin in a flash. 

“Of course,” he replied lightly, forcing himself to take the offered hand of the woman who had tortured him (who featured in the nightmares he still had night after night, whose hands meant pain and terror).  Two could play at this game.

  

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update today – I got home much later than I intended! So, what do you think that the Black Fairy intends to do here at Prince Graham’s christening? Is it too late for her to curse the baby, or might she have something else in mind?
> 
> Chapter 21 is “Dance of Death”, in the Black Fairy and Rumplestiltskin have an interesting conversation, and fallout ensues. While you’re waiting for that, please let me know what you think!


	23. Dance of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Black Fairy shows up to dance. And so does everyone else.

**_Chapter Twenty-Two—“Dance of Death”_ **

 

Rumplestiltskin stepped onto the dance floor with Danns' a'Bhàis, her magic swirling around the pair of them and infecting everyone in the room. By the time she’d led him to the center of the floor, the tendrils of magic had reached out and pulled every attendee save for the musicians into the dance. So far they were all happy, but Rumplestiltskin could feel the darkness lurking behind the playful magical touch. It always started this way, he knew, started with sweetness and light before the dance of death began. 

Hazel eyes fastened on his, and they danced in silence for several long minutes as Rumplestiltskin met her gaze. It was like indulging in a silent battle of wills whilst in the midst of a power-borne chess game. Her magic pulled at him and he rejected it; he sent threads out to counter the spells she wrapped around everyone else and she sidestepped them. They shared one turn around the dance floor, and then another, with the other dancers always moving aside to allow them to sweep by. Their movements were perfectly choreographed, absolutely flawless. The only wildcard in the seamless dance was Rumplestiltskin himself, because _he_ was the single soul in the room free of her spell. Finally, her right hand drifted up to touch the back of his neck, and Rumplestiltskin twirled her away, barely managing not to flinch away in fear. 

Her fingers only brushed his neck slightly before he used the dance to force her to break contact, but memories still dug into his mind. 

_Pain ripped through Rumplestiltskin, darkness clawing at his soul. Power swirled around his bound body, making his leaden limbs spasm weakly. Torn flesh scraped against hard stone, making him whimper._

_“I will give you your magic back,” she whispered in his ear, her hand stroking his face, now. “Everything you have ever been, you can be again. Strong. Fearless._ Powerful _.”_

_Tears streaked down his face. He could barely understand the words through the shudders racking his body, but the temptation was unbelievably strong. Rumplestiltskin hated weakness, hated his own fears more than anything else, and breaking his own curse had left him powerless. If he accepted the darkness again, he could protect his family, he could—_

_Bae’s face flashed in front of his eyes, not as he’d last seen his son, but as a boy of fourteen who was horrified by the monster his beloved papa had become. A boy who had come to fear his own father, who had only wanted to protect him—_

_She must have sensed his resistance, because the hand slipped around to behind his neck once more and Rumplestiltskin screamed in pain._  

He caught her wrist when her hand ghosted upwards again as she completed the twirl, meeting her playful smile with a knowing smirk. “Not so fast, dearie.” 

Rumplestiltskin could never have been so courageous were it not for the magic, _his_ magic, sweeping through him, for the way his fingers tingled with power even when he was not calling on it or the way magic augmented his senses without even a spell, letting him watch the tendrils spread out as she worked. He’d always been a coward at heart and probably always would be; there would always be fears to overcome. Yet he could face Danns' a'Bhàis on even terms because he knew his power could match hers, because he knew that he was what she was. He could smile at her and bat her hand aside lightly, could manage not to flinch when her fingers returned to resting on his left shoulder. 

Two original powers, swirling around the dance floor, making the first moves in a match either could win. 

“Is something troubling you, old friend?” she asked amicably, never breaking away from his gaze. 

“Should something be?” Rumplestiltskin countered, his wild heartbeat slowing. 

Danns smiled. “Perhaps.” 

“I hate to disappoint you, but if you’re looking for cracks, you’ll not be so lucky,” he told her. No, she need not know how often she featured in his nightmares, about the shattered soul that Belle had reassembled piece by piece. He’d told Belle and Bae that he had fought her because he’d had reasons to fight, and that was still valid.

“Who says I’m looking?” the Black Fairy replied, her eyes wide and innocent. 

The devious twinkle behind the look ruined the affect, and Rumplestiltskin snorted. 

“Let’s not be less than honest with one another. We both know what you want.” 

“What I want is to dance with an old friend who I have missed,” she answered smoothly. But her eyes searched his face subtly, looking for that _old friend_ whose memories of pain lurked in the recesses of Rumplestiltskin’s mind. 

“You’re out of luck, then, dear.” He let a smile play on his own lips, let her see the claws lurking beneath the calm façade. “Your old friend is long gone. You saw to that.” 

“Is he, now?” 

She didn’t believe him. Rumplestiltskin almost laughed in her face, but that was not how the game was played. Instead, he only kept the sly smile on, letting his eyes hint at deeper truths without giving a hint away. 

“I am what I am.” _Rumplestiltskin to the core_. 

“Aren’t you always.” Danns purred the words, her right hand drifting upwards once more. Stopping her twice would be an admission of weakness, so he let her fingers touch the back of his neck, oh so lightly. 

It took all of his self-control to continue to wear the mysterious smile and not flinch wildly away from her. Not to run and hide. But he managed, and her touch did not bring magic, not yet. Nor did the pain he’d half-expected race through his body. For now it was merely physical contact, and unpleasant though it was, Rumplestiltskin could deal with that. Even if it would give him nightmares later. 

“Do try to remember that,” he told her, all sharp edges and a nasty smile, feeling very much as he had back when he’d been the Dark One. The power flowing through him was different, but Rumplestiltskin still hated being cornered, and was likely to lash out at a moment’s notice. Knowing that about himself didn’t make it easier to stop. 

_Wait,_ he told himself firmly. _Play the game for all it’s worth. She doesn’t_ know _, and although flat out lying to her would be counterproductive, you can still twist words with the best of them. Let her learn_ that _today, if nothing else._

_Better yet, let her learn that lesson another day, and let her assumptions carry her today._  

“Such hostility,” the Black Fairy said mournfully, her fingers playing with his hair. He _hated_ that, and wanted to snarl at her, but resisted the urge. 

_Play the part._

“Are you surprised?” Rumplestiltskin asked instead of yanking away. “I’d say you’ve given me plenty of reasons.” 

“I wouldn’t have needed to if not for your recalcitrance.” 

That very comment brought up memories—memories of Merlin refusing to take Danns’ side against her sister. That was how _she_ saw it, of course, but the heart of the matter for Merlin had been that he refused to allow her to use humanity as her personal playground. Rumplestiltskin’s predecessor had loved the queen of the fae, and had hated standing against her. But the idealist had done it because he thought it was right, and oddly enough, Rumplestiltskin agreed with him. Oh, he’d never be the type of straightforward, sword-slinging, tries-so-hard-to-be-honorable hero that Merlin had been. He was anything but that. Yet he’d already told Reul Ghorm which side he had chosen…and it was the same one Merlin had chosen over a thousand years earlier. 

“I think we differ on the definition of the word _need_ ,” he replied dryly, neatly sidestepping the fact that she was obviously referring to Merlin’s actions and not his own. _Rumplestiltskin_ had never done anything save refuse to become her creature, and interestingly enough, he didn’t think that she held that against him. 

Danns chuckled. “Perhaps we do. Still, it has been terribly _boring_ without you.” 

“Speak for yourself. I’ve been plenty entertained.” 

He spun her again, in time with the music, a back corner of his mind noticing the graceful way the fae floated from step to step. Her black and silver dress swirled around her like a whirlpool of deep magic, brushing against Rumplestiltskin’s legs as he led her through each dance. There was ancient magic at work within her, probably not even executed on a conscious level, transforming natural beauty into perfection, allure into fascination. Any man not already in the grips of True Love would probably find her irresistible; even Rumplestiltskin felt the pull, and he’d never been very in touch with his own carnal nature. But she was gorgeous, flawless, and deadly, worse than any siren and incalculably more dangerous. 

Every male eye in the room was on them, even with everyone else was stuck in the throes of the dance. He could imagine fools being willing to die for so much as a smile out of her; Danns' a'Bhàis was the stuff from which dreams and nightmares were made. Rumplestiltskin could see where Merlin had fallen, could begin to understand the slight stirrings of longing included in his memories. Danns had been more than Merlin’s closest friend; she’d been his lover, his sin, and his darker half. She had understood him in ways that even Morgan Le Fae could not—because this vast power they held defied explanation and only a few could grasp its terrifying wonders—but in the end Merlin had chosen to leave her. 

From the way she was watching him, Rumplestiltskin knew what she wanted. Hazel eyes burned into his own, not only enjoying the invisible cut and thrust of their verbal duel, but also looking for more. Danns had meant what she’d said about being bored, and she really did still think he was Merlin. 

Ruthless though he was, there were some aspects to that assumption Rumplestiltskin would _never_ exploit. 

“I’m sure you have,” she purred. “But why content yourself with small trivialities such as this? You were born for so much more.” 

_Evil isn’t born,_ he’d told half a hundred people. _It’s made._ Rumplestiltskin almost laughed aloud. Merlin had been borne of a human princess and an elemental demon, born with magic that made people assume he was destined for greatness. Rumplestiltskin was the product of a peasant swindler who’d impregnated a woman whose name Malcolm hadn’t even remembered when the deed was done. _Rumplestiltskin_ had been born to be a peasant, an absolute nonentity who never mattered. He’d _made_ himself into something more. 

“Strangely enough, I think I am exactly where I need to be,” he murmured in response, curious to see how she would react. 

A bit of the sparkle left her eyes, which narrowed. “It need not be this way, old friend. Not this time.” 

The threat in those words was whisper-soft, but it was still there. 

“Oh, I quite agree,” Rumplestiltskin said pleasantly, as if he’d missed the edge in her voice. “There’s no need to repeat the mistakes of the past.” 

_I’ll be taking that dagger back, dearie,_ he didn’t say. _Without the curse you think goes with it._  

Did she hear the unspoken promise? There was no way to be sure, but Danns’ sharp mind missed very little. Toy with her though he might, Rumplestiltskin could not afford to allow himself to forget how intelligent she was. Reul Ghorm was the tenacious sister. Danns' a'Bhàis was the brilliant one. 

Her hand returned to the back of his neck, having drifted away when he’d twirled her around. Long fingers toyed gently with the ends of his hair again, and Danns smiled again, her expression softening. “I have missed our alliance.” 

“Have you now?” Rumplestiltskin believed she was usually more subtle than this, but he actually understood the loneliness behind the emotion she’d called boredom. 

“I have.” 

Keeping his silence, Rumplestiltskin chose to wait and see how long Danns could bear the lack of response. Capable of great patience though she was, the Black Fairy preferred to have answers when she demanded them. Despite her years of exile—or perhaps because of them—she was used to absolute power over her people. She did not enjoy dealing with those who would defy her, who would refuse to dance to her tune. 

“Think on it,” she said after two minutes or so, after the music changed to an otherworldly melody that the members of the orchestra could not have already known. It was ancient and forgotten, composed by a half-fairy bard back in the days when such things were more common. Rumplestiltskin could feel her magic swelling, filling the room and making the tempo of the dance speed up. Soon, the unwitting dancers would be caught up in a frustrated fae’s frenzy. 

Throwing out markers so he could dismantle the magic later, Rumplestiltskin realized suddenly that if he could not calm her, the spells might prove well-nigh unstoppable. 

“I’m not one to disregard any option without careful consideration,” he answered smoothly. 

“I remember you being much more bold,” Danns replied, her eyes sharpening again. “Or is this Rumplestiltskin, the meticulous manipulator of deals?” 

But she knew so little about him; the question was clearly a shot in the dark based upon only rumors she’d heard. 

“We all change over time,” Rumplestiltskin said neutrally, avoiding her question. 

“Speak for yourself.” But her smile told him that she at least appreciated cleverness. Danns was clearly trying to figure out what was Merlin and what was Rumplestiltskin, but she was obviously willing to exercise some of the patience she so disliked in this case. After all, boredom was best relieved whilst playing this most dangerous of games. Her eyes gleamed. “I am much the same as ever before.” 

Rumplestiltskin quirked a smile, reaching up to move her hand away from his neck in a very deliberate movement. “I’m sure you are.” 

“Then don’t make me wait too long, old friend.” Gliding to a stop, Danns moved forward to kiss him; Rumplestiltskin turned his head at the last moment so that her lips landed, feather-light, on his cheek. 

The Black Fairy stepped back, smiling one last time, beautiful and deadly, graceful and toxic. 

_“Enjoy.”_  

With that last word, she vanished in a swirl of black and silver smoke, leaving a sprinkling of dark fairy dust shimmering in the air. Meanwhile, the rest of the guests continued dancing, wrapped tightly in the tendrils of her magic. Helpless though they were, each and every person clearly _knew_ they were being controlled. Their expressions varied from mild worry to outright panic; everyone was dancing and no one could stop. Even the orchestra’s members were clearly starting to grow concerned, with their fingers stuck to their instruments as they played alien tunes. Regina and Maleficent were stuck in the dance, too, both looking furious and miserable as they fought against power they could not match. _A year ago, I would have been right beside them_. Now it was all up to him. 

The irony in that simple fact cut sharper than any deal he’d ever made. 

Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, reaching into the magic and watching how the threads fit together. Whilst he worked, a flick of his left wrist produced a vial into which the fairy dust vanished. He’d never been too proud to claim whatever magic his foes left behind; everything had its uses. Sealing the bottle and tucking it into a pocket, Rumplestiltskin turned his attention to the still-dancing crowd. He stood motionless in the center of the dance floor and focused. 

The Black Fairy’s spells were too layered to leave behind a single thread which he could pull to dismantle them, but once he found one, spotting the others he needed was easy. Yet he was in no hurry. One by one, he identified each thread, and then went through the process a second time, finding three that he’d missed. All the while, the dancers continued to dance, and the music continued to play. On his third pass he found yet a fourth hidden tendril, but when two more passes came up clean, he knew he was ready. Slowly, gathering his own power as he did so, Rumplestiltskin raised his hands, grasping dozens of shining, invisible threads and watching while, as one, all of the dancers missed a step in their waltz. He waited one second, and then two, and then _pulled._  

Magic collapsed around him, and Rumplestiltskin drew it into himself, sucking in power dizzyingly fast. He’d wondered, more than once, if he _had_ original power or _was_ an original power. But no mere human could have been a vessel for this extreme magic for long, and each succeeding time he used it became easier than the last. Now he had his answer. His body might have been human—and it was, frighteningly so, at least compared with how he’d been as the Dark One—but the power would change that, given time. Slightly. Within seconds, the tendrils crumbled into nothing, leaving his mind singing with power and everyone else free. 

A collective gasp filled the room; a dozen people fell and nearly everyone else stumbled. Waiting for the mild vertigo to pass, Rumplestiltskin missed the shocked conversations starting around him until Regina strode forward to demand: 

“What the hell was that?” 

She’d clearly been dancing with her outlaw, because she still held his hand in her own, but Rumplestiltskin knew that tone of old, from before Regina softened and started listening to her heart. Her rage had always made for potent magic, and he could feel how shocked Regina was to find that it had failed her this time. It never had, he knew, and facing your own mortality was a frightening thing. 

“I think you know, dear,” he replied automatically, and none too helpfully. Belle, however, stepped forward to grasp his arm gently before Regina could retort. 

“That was the Black Fairy, wasn’t it?” his love asked. 

Belle looked a little pale and shaken; he wouldn’t toy with her. 

“Indeed it was,” Rumplestiltskin replied, raising his voice so that everyone could hear, and watching at least half the crowd take a fearful step backwards. He should probably say something reassuring—Merlin would have—but Rumplestiltskin had never been the type. “The spell she placed on you is broken. There is nothing to fear. At the moment.” 

“Thank you, Rumplestiltskin.” Surprisingly, the words came from Snow White, gliding forward, her words and serenity soothing fears as she came. “You saved us.” 

No one in the room had missed the stories of those stolen or slain by the fae in the preceding weeks, and now they suddenly understood why their forefathers had feared the Black Fairy’s followers. The fae had been forgotten in all but legend, but now they were real and terrifying. They could kill _fairies,_ and they could do this. What else could the fae do to hurt them? Fearful looks were exchanged, and a few people nodded, understanding. Still, Rumplestiltskin had not expected gratitude, and Snow’s words made him blink. 

“You’re welcome,” he said a little uncomfortably, and then couldn’t help adding: “I did tell you that I was on your side, dearie.” 

“And we shall not doubt it again.” Snow’s smile was warm enough to touch even his withered black heart, and Rumplestiltskin felt Belle glowing at his side. Damn the girl. He’d had his differences with Snow White over the years, but he’d never doubted the young queen’s indomitable _goodness._ He’d just never had it aimed at him, before. 

Unable to find a suitable response, Rumplestiltskin just bowed and hoped the royals would go away. Fortunately, they did so, and the crowd slowly broke down into concerned knots of people busy verifying that their friends and family were unharmed. That left Rumplestiltskin standing with Belle at the center of the dance floor, fae magic still coursing through his veins as his own power worked to assimilate it. The process was not as smooth as he might have hoped. He felt as if ants were crawling around under his skin. 

“Are you all right?” Belle asked quietly. Leave it to her to be the only one who worried for him. The others were all rightfully distracted by Rumplestiltskin’s display of power. 

“I think so,” he answered honestly, resisting the urge to sidestep the issue. It was a hard habit to break, but Belle deserved better, though Rumplestiltskin was careful to keep his voice soft. 

“She looked… _possessive._ ” 

He snorted. “She was. She thinks I’m Merlin.” 

“What?” Belle gaped. 

“Oh, yes.” Now Rumplestiltskin allowed himself to smile despite the way the power was eating at him in an increasingly painful manner. Of course it was a trap. Danns had always loved her traps. But he’d laid one, too. 

“Rumple?” Belle brought him back to the present. 

“Kiss me,” he said abruptly, realizing what he needed to derail the magic tearing through him. True Love’s kiss had cleaned out his system when Belle and the others had rescued him from Bremen, and Rumplestiltskin knew it would work again. True Love’s kiss would work when nothing else would. And Danns had _no_ idea. 

Belle threw him a funny look but smiled anyway, moving close to him and placing her warm hands against his chest. Rumplestiltskin lowered his face to meet hers, and pure power surged through him as their lips touched. He’d drawn Danns’ spell in, but True Love burned it out, cleansing his soul and leaving Rumplestiltskin lightheaded in a miraculously wonderful way. He’d never dreamed of anything like this, and still sometimes wondered how he, of all people, had earned the love of a wonderful woman like Belle, but at least he’d learned enough to trust in her love. Now he could relax into her and let the kiss do its work, chasing away his demons and the magic that the Black Fairy had left behind. 

“Better?” Belle asked softly. 

He smiled. “Utterly.”

 

****************

 

Movement caught Killian’s eye as Emma stormed out of the ballroom (a room he’d had no idea even existed in this monstrously enchanted castle, though Killian had to admit that he’d curtailed his earlier explorations after a set of stairs had tried to bite his leg off). Slipping away from his halfhearted conversation with the leggy wolf girl and Tink, Killian followed her out the side door and into a hallway he’d never entered before. It was full of dusty paintings, a terrifically realistic looking bear, and a suit of armor that snapped to attention as Emma strode past, hugging her arms to her chest and obviously noticing nothing. She looked half-furious and half-devastated, and he couldn’t leave her alone like this. 

Even if she’d chosen to let Baelfire escort her to her brother’s christening, Killian still cared for Emma Swan more than words could express. Besides which, he could always cherish hope that she’d chosen Baelfire for Henry’s sake and Emma showing up on the younger man’s arm in no way indicated her romantic inclinations. She’d warned him ahead of time, which he appreciated, and although Emma had indicated that choosing Bae might be more permanent than Killian wished, she hadn’t come right out and said so yet. For now, however, he’d not allow himself to dwell upon that—Emma looked like she needed a friend, and if a friend she wanted, a friend Killian would be. _Though it breaks my heart, I’ll stop at that, if it’s what the lady wants,_ he told himself for the hundredth time. Killian had always felt a special bond with Emma, and he’d brought her back from the Land Without Magic when everyone had doubted that he’d be able to convince her. They’d only grown closer when they set out to rescue Regina, yet something seemed to have gone wrong in the interim. He only wished he knew what. 

Emma stopped at a T in the hallway, staring blankly at a tapestry that featured a heavily built black unicorn and a beautiful young woman. Killian approached cautiously, not even trying to be stealthy, but she still jumped when he spoke. 

“Something bothering you, love?” he asked gently. 

“Hook.” Emma grimaced, and then shook her head. “No. I just needed some air.” 

“I’ll admit that it’s gotten a little…stuffy in there. Probably all the magic flying around.” Killian shrugged, remembering the oddly warm feeling of the Black Fairy’s magic wrapping around all of them, the way it had felt so _marvelous_ to dance with that lovely wolf girl as if neither of them had a care in the world. Guiltily, he realized that he’d not even thought about Emma as he’d danced with Ruby, he’d just enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms and a perfect dance. 

Of course, that feeling hadn’t lasted; soon enough his legs had started getting sore and the music only sped up instead of slowing down. Killian liked to think that he’d realized there was something wrong before most of the guests had, but by then it had been far too late. The warm and carefree feeling had been replaced by deep-seated worry, particularly when he’d noticed Regina caught in the same frenzy as the rest of them. Worse yet, Rumplestiltskin had been dancing with that terrifyingly ethereal woman. A woman who was _too_ beautiful was always a problem in Killian’s experience; that meant magic was at work, and a lass who needed those kinds of tricks almost always had an ugly soul to hide. Still, Rumplestiltskin had somehow undone what the evil fairy had wrought, and though Killian could never bring himself to forgive Milah’s killer, he’d been very relieved. 

That said, he would have paid good gold to know what those two had talked about _before_ Rumplestiltskin had bothered to break the spell. He was willing to bet that the former Dark One was playing some sort of game. Even though Snow White had foolishly promised to doubt him no longer, Killian was not willing to put his trust in Rumplestiltskin. Milah had trusted him once, and he’d only proven himself a coward and then, later, as the most evil monster in creation. What he was now was anyone’s guess, but Killian was willing to bet that there was something Rumplestiltskin still wasn’t sharing. 

“That’s the problem,” Emma answered after a moment, her beautiful eyes narrowing. 

Killian blinked, and then his mind caught up. “The magic?” 

“Yes.” She all but growled the word, but he could see some fear in her expression, too, and he resisted the urge to sweep her up in her arms and try to reassure her in other ways. Such things had rarely worked well with Emma Swan, and Killian knew that if he tried to romance her now, he was likely to receive another knee to the groin. Once was quite enough on that front. 

“We all felt that, Emma,” he said instead, trying to reassure her. “And though a daring pirate such as myself dislikes admitting to fear, I can tell you in confidence that I was rather terrified. I don’t take well to being helpless.” 

“It’s not that.” 

Stepping closer to her, Killian reached out to put a hand on Emma’s arm. “Then what’s bothering you, love?” 

“I _felt_ it coming,” Emma ground out. “You felt it when it happened, but I have magic, and I felt every bit of it coming. And I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Me, the Savior. And I couldn’t save anyone.” 

“You can’t always be the Savior,” he pointed out gently, not sure what else to say in the face of her anger. “Sometimes you just have to be Emma Swan.” 

“They’re the same thing.” 

“Are they?” Killian countered. 

“Yes. I was _born_ to be the Savior. It’s what I’ve been ever since Rumplestiltskin put a drop of my parents’ True Love on that damn curse.” Killian could’ve killed the former Dark One for that if nothing else, but he’d sworn off revenge and although Rumplestiltskin might possibly have been more mortal these days, Killian wasn’t fool enough to try. Emma, however, continued acidly: “And I was as helpless as anyone else. Even though I’m _supposed_ to be able to use magic.” 

“I think you’re being too hard on yourself,” he said. “You’re hardly Regina. And look at her—she spent a lifetime using magic, and she couldn’t do a thing, either.” 

Emma frowned. “That’s not the point.” 

“Then what is?” 

“Regina keeps telling me to learn to use my magic, not just to depend upon it to come through when I need it most,” she admitted, her voice going very small. “She says that if I keep trusting luck or stubbornness to get me through, sooner or later I’m going to get someone killed.” 

“No one died tonight, Emma,” Killian pointed out reasonably, only to receive a glare in return. 

“They could have. _Henry_ could have. Or Graham. Or my parents. Or anyone, all because I haven’t wanted to learn to use the magic I have. Even _Rumplestiltskin’s_ told me that I can’t do what I’m doing, yet I’ve just kept blindly stumbling on the same path because I want to be normal _._ ” The bitterness in her voice was sharp enough to cut skin, and it made Killian wince. But Emma plowed onwards before he could get a word in edgewise, her voice growing hard: “But I’m the Savior. I don’t have the luxury of being normal, and that means I don’t get to ignore my magic, either.” 

The determination in her voice made him swallow before he could ask: “Are you sure that’s what you want, love?” 

Killian had rarely seen learning to use magic work out well for anyone. Look at Regina—by all accounts, she’d been a nice girl before Rumplestiltskin got a hold of her, and she’d turned into the Evil Queen after learning magic. The last thing Killian wanted was to see Emma walk down that same dark road. He’d been a villain, maybe still was, and Emma deserved so much better than to be stuck on that path. 

“No. But I’m sure it’s what I have to do.” Her shoulders rolled back, and Emma straightened; Killian realized too late that he’d been too gentle, and now he might not be able to talk her out of this at all. 

“Magic isn’t necessarily a good thing, love,” he tried anyway. “I’ve been to many realms and seen dozens of magic users, and they _never_ come out of it the same as they went in.   “Pan was apparently normal before he became a monster. I _saw_ Rumplestiltskin before he became the Dark One, and believe me, he was nothing like he is now before magic got ahold of him. Even Regina was apparently _good_ , once, at least if your mother is to be believed. You don’t have to do this. Let them pay the price for such power. Not you.” 

Emma turned to look at him, the gratitude that had briefly shown on her face changing to wary suspicion. “It’s not that simple.” 

“Of course it is. You can’t balance the weight of our entire world on your shoulders. Let the others bear some of the burden,” he pleaded. 

“I don’t want to save everyone,” she snapped. “And I don’t think I’m the only person who can make a difference.” 

He hadn’t expected that much venom, and Killian held his hands up in surrender. “I never said you did.” 

“You didn’t have to. Would you refuse to use a weapon you were given just because other people might not like it?” 

“Of course not.” But Killian didn’t know if he would have ever wanted to use magic, either. He’d seen magic destroy too much, spent too much time in Neverland, whose magic still haunted his nightmares. 

“Then don’t expect me to do anything else,” Emma retorted. 

“I’m not trying to make decisions for you,” he replied, slightly stung. Still, Killian had never counted himself as a coward, so he plunged onwards honestly: “I only worry for you. Be _careful_ , love, please. I have seen what magic can do to people, and you deserve so much better.” 

That finally made Emma smile, just a little. “I’ll be careful. I promise,” she told him. 

On impulse, he seized her hand and kissed it. “All a man can ask,” he murmured over her fingers, returning her smile with all of his considerable charm, “is to have a beautiful woman heed his pleas for caution.” 

“I didn’t think you were big on caution.” The look she gave him made his heart leap; Killian never could resist Emma at her snarkiest. 

“You _are_ lovely tonight, Swan,” Killian responded without letting go of her hand. “By far the most beautiful princess of them all. Far above a lowly pirate captain, save in my dreams.” 

Most women would have blushed; Emma yanked her hand away instead. The glare she gave him was unexpected, and her voice turned dry. “Thanks.” 

_Well, that was hardly the response I was looking for._ Killian suppressed the frown that wanted to rise; Emma had always been a challenge, and he loved that about her. He’d not exactly expected her to swoon into his arms or suddenly declare her undying love, but a little hint here or there would have been very nice. 

“May I escort you back to the ball?” he asked instead, offering his arm. Perhaps Emma would be more open to her emotions on the dance floor. 

“No, you go ahead,” Emma replied, shaking her head. “I’m done for the night, and Neal and I are meeting up to make sure Henry actually goes to bed instead of trying to sneak into the library. Again.” 

The mention of his rival made Killian frown, but he tried to cover his disappointment with a smile. “Of course.” 

Emma returned the smile, this time more naturally. “Thank you,” she said before turning away. “I know…I know you mean well. And that you’re trying to look out for me.” 

“I always will,” Killian promised, even though the hesitant tone of Emma’s voice said that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation. She was an independent woman, he knew—and adored that about her—but he was starting to wonder if he’d pushed too hard. 

Or maybe he’d lost her before this conversation even started, and he’d only inadvertently sealed his own coffin with his well-meaning words. _I’ll be whatever she wants me to be,_ he told himself again, trying not to listen to what might be his own breaking heart as Emma walked away. _If you love them, let them go._

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think it means that Rumplestiltskin is an original power vice having original power? And do you think that Black Fairy’s belief that he actually is Merlin will prove dangerous to our heroes? 
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 23: “Original Powers”, in which the Blue Fairy makes one last try to get what she thinks she needs.
> 
> While you’re waiting for that (and if you haven’t already), please feel free to check out my new Rumplestiltskin-centered shorts. “Watching the Wheel” is a one shot, and “Feed the Madness” is a (currently) two-shot following Rumplestiltskin in season 3B. As always, thank you for reading, and please do let me know what you think!


	24. Original Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Blue Fairy tries, one last time, to get what she thinks she needs.

**_Chapter Twenty-Three—“Original Powers”_ **

 

The day after the christening that she had obviously chosen not to attend, Reul Ghorm returned to the Dark Castle.  This time, she sent word ahead through Tinker Bell rather than trying to sneak in, a courtesy that kept Rumplestiltskin from allowing the wards to wrap her up in nastiness that he wouldn’t have regretted one bit.  He’d taken those same defenses down for the christening, of course, because it wouldn’t have done to fry one of the people the Charmings had invited, but they were back up at full strength now, and Rumplestiltskin had a good enough read on _both_ major fairies to know that they’d both have difficulties breaching them.  Had Snow not come to him personally to let him know that Blue wanted to meet with her, he probably would have been tempted to keep the defenses intact, but the young queen was clearly trying to include him. 

In fact, she’d outright invited Rumplestiltskin to come to the meeting that Reul Ghorm had requested, and didn’t _that_ say interesting things about who the Charmings had decided to trust.  Then again, he’d just gone toe-to-toe with the Black Fairy, which might have had just a little to do with Snow’s decision to trust him.  Particularly since the Charmings had no inkling of the nightmares that encounter was still giving him—all they knew was that he’d undone the magic that the Black Fairy had left behind, had stood up to her and stopped her.  They didn’t need to know how afraid he’d been. 

Of course, the Charmings hadn’t just invited him.  The group they assembled had arrayed themselves around the long table in the great hall in an interesting fashion; Rumplestiltskin had expected this to be a family affair, with a few wildcards thrown in for good measure, but instead he found himself joining in the Charming family war council.  It was an odd experience, only slightly mollified by the fact that Regina looked almost as put out by some of the others’ presences as he did.  She’d just fetched Charming back from the army a few minutes earlier, but looking at Regina, it was impossible to tell. 

Rumplestiltskin sat at one end, with Snow across from him.  Bae sat to his left, with Emma and Henry coming next, and then Regina, of course, on Henry’s other side.  Tinker Bell sat next to Regina, determinedly looking more human than fairy, and if Rumplestiltskin could read her angry expression correctly, she hadn’t at all liked what was in the book Belle had shared with her.  Standing, Hook lurked somewhere between Emma and Henry, seeming unhappy that he hadn’t been offered a seat at the table.  To the pirate’s left, Robin Hood stood behind Regina’s chair, leaning casually against its high back and smiling down at her in a manner that practically screamed True Love at the top of its lungs.  Last on that side of the table was Jiminy Cricket, and the little green conscience was truly _on_ the table, complete with a ridiculous looking speaking horn. 

Half-seriously, Rumplestiltskin contemplated offering to give Jiminy something smaller with which to both translate and amplify his voice with, but the green bug seemed perfectly cheerful, so he left it well enough alone.  He was flying near Snow’s shoulder right now and undoubtedly saying something to make the young queen happy, because the drawn expression on Snow’s face eased a little bit. 

Charming sat to Snow’s left, of course, with King Hubert and then Queen Leah (unwelcome guests, both of them; Rumplestiltskin really did wish he could send those monarchs out of his castle, but instinct told him they were better kept an eye on than ignored).  Granny—who invited an old woman, former werewolf or not, to their war council?—sat next to Philip’s mother.  Leah seemed rather put out to be seated next to a peasant woman, however, which immediately endeared the former innkeeper to Rumplestiltskin.  Red stood between her grandmother and Belle, who was talking quietly with her at the moment, though she stole glances at Rumplestiltskin from time to time since she was sitting to his right.  Last but not least was Grumpy, standing near Charming and Snow but obviously too miserable to want to really join into this meeting. 

Something twinged in the vicinity of Rumplestiltskin’s oft-misused heart.  He’d never liked any fairies on principle, but he’d actually been a little fond of Astrid, given how the girl had turned her back on Reul Ghorm’s fanatical rules and found True Love.  She deserved better than to be murdered by a fae, and though he probably wouldn’t have felt a bit of regret on her behalf were it not for the hangdog look now on her True Love’s face, Rumplestiltskin did think it was a waste.  And he knew better than anyone that Grumpy would never be the same again, no matter how hard his friends tried to be there for him.  Loss of a True Love left scars no amount of time could erase. 

Regina met his eyes briefly, and he could see her remembering her own pain, remembering what had driven her to vengeance and evil.  Rumplestiltskin gave her a slight nod; she didn’t want his pity any more than he wanted hers, but understanding they could manage.  Then the outlaw squeezed Regina’s shoulder, and Rumplestiltskin saw the shadow of old pain ease.  A smile quirked on his face once he saw how the obviously intimate gesture irritated King Hubert—but then, that was the same king who’d looked at Baelfire like he was mud on his boot, so Rumplestiltskin was more than happy to see him feeling a little discomfited.  Intellectually, he knew that the people who hadn’t been transported to Storybrooke would have a hard time relating to those that had, but it was still always nice to watch a stuck-up royal have to deal with the fact that peasants—and outlaws—could think, too. 

“She’s late,” Regina muttered darkly a moment later.  Never a patient one, her scowl was growing deeper despite Robin’s best efforts to soothe her. 

“I’m sure it’s not intentional,” Tink started to say, only to have the Evil Queen cut her off acidly. 

“Don’t make excuses for her, Tink.  The Blue Bug has already demonstrated the contempt she holds us _mere_ humans in.” 

“I’m not making excuses,” the fairy retorted without rancor.  “But I am interested to hear what explanations Blue says she has.  I think that’s worth waiting for.” 

Heads nodded around the table, and although Rumplestiltskin completely agreed with Regina’s feelings on the matter, he held his peace.  Both major fairies had shown their contempt for humanity over the years; Reul Ghorm thought they were children to be protected, and Danns' a'Bhàis felt they were toys to be played with.  Not that he’d been too terribly much better over the years.  But while Rumplestiltskin had manipulated others and moved pieces around a centuries’ old chessboard, the one thing he’d never done was force anyone to do his bidding or lie to them about what choices they had. 

“We’ll hear her out,” Snow reminded everyone, sharing a long look with Regina before shifting her gaze to Rumplestiltskin. 

“I’m hardly the type to precipitously start a fight, dearie,” he answered her unspoken question.  “So long as Reul Ghorm doesn’t try to touch our mutual grandson, she’s perfectly safe from me.” 

Henry smiled tightly in response to that, and Rumplestiltskin gave his grandson a nod.  The boy was nervous, and rightly so—it wasn’t every day that the most powerful of all fairies wanted to steal a thirteen year old’s heart.  Emma squeezed her son’s hand briefly, and the fiercely protective expression returned to Regina’s face. 

“Thanks, Grandpa,” Henry said quietly, and Rumplestiltskin smiled.  He would have had to have been more of a monster than he’d ever been to not be touched by the way his grandson had so easily included him within his family.  Rumplestiltskin knew he wasn’t an easy man to get along with, and although he was devoutly grateful that he’d never been anything less than kind to Henry, even when the boy had just been Regina’s adopted son, having Henry look his way with trust and affection was still heartwarming. 

“Of course, Henry.” 

The short exchange seemed to make Hubert start; the older king exchanged an unreadable glance with Queen Leah, but said nothing.  Shifting slightly, Rumplestiltskin turned to watch the pair of them, raising an eyebrow and contemplating if it was worth being obnoxious or not.  Under his curse, he’d never have been able to stop himself, but at the moment he could actually understand that there were reasons to be more politic than he usually chose to be.  Noticing his glance, Charming caught his eye and nodded slightly, conveying that he, too, was watching the other pair of royals. 

Well, then.  No reason to let those two think that they were suspicious.  Better to let the two hang themselves, eventually.  In the meantime, however, Rumplestiltskin made a mental note to throw a spell or two their way and keep track of the pair.  Prince Philip seemed a decent enough sort, and while Princess Aurora was certainly no warrior princess, she’d been friendly enough towards Belle that Rumplestiltskin preferred to think that she wasn’t involved in whatever it was their parents were planning.  Still, the quartet (quintet, if one counted the child Aurora had birthed several months earlier) was worth watching.  Particularly given the fact that Philip and Aurora had been so thoroughly under the Witch’s thumb when the others had arrived in the Enchanted Forest.  Months had passed before Philip even admitted that to Snow and Charming, Rumplestiltskin had learned from Belle, and although Philip and Aurora _seemed_ to be on their side now, anything could change in a war like this. 

While he’d been musing, their guest arrived, floating into the room, resplendent in glowing blue and utterly sparkling.   Still in midair, Reul Ghorm offered the assembled monarchs a regal nod. 

“Your Majesties.” 

Oh, she was good.  Blue always had been better at catering to peoples’ egos than he was, and far better than her sister at that, too.  Hubert in particular responded well to the flattery, and even Charming’s suspicious glance was somewhat mollified.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure who had told Charming what concerning Blue’s last visit, but judging from the young king’s expression, it hadn’t been terribly flattering towards the fairy.  Snow, of course, still looked like she wanted to believe her family’s old patron, but even she didn’t appear ready to trust everything Blue said without question.  

In fact, Snow glanced his way before speaking, obviously feeling that he had a better right to start this off than she did—after all, it was his castle.  Slightly surprised, but pleased, Rumplestiltskin waved a hand for her to take the lead.  He had no desire to have an extended conversation with Reul Ghorm, anyway.  It would be likely to turn nasty quickly, particularly given that he knew from Merlin’s memories _exactly_ what she wanted to do with Henry’s heart. 

“We appreciate that you’ve come despite how busy you are,” Snow said calmly.  Regally.  “Since you sent word that you wanted to speak with us, why don’t you begin?” 

“Thank you.”  She wore that maternal smile, of course, and Rumplestiltskin had to glance at Snow to make sure it wasn’t doing its usual good job of bamboozling the queen.  Of course, he wasn’t the least biased observer when it came to fairies, but even a fool knew now that Reul Ghorm was more than capable of manipulating people to meet her own ends. 

_I wonder…_ The thought sprang on him without warning, and suddenly Rumplestiltskin found himself remembering shouting at her almost three hundred years ago, swearing that he’d find a way to get to his son—and listening to her tell him that there was no way, save a curse.  She’d led him right into that solution, too.  Hadn’t she?  His eyes narrowed, and Belle shot him a worried look.  Resolutely, Rumplestiltskin resolved to work on that puzzle later and focus on the present. 

“I heard what happened at the Christening,” Blue continued, hovering near Charming’s left shoulder.  “I was glad to hear that no one was hurt.” 

Most people in the room at least glanced Rumplestiltskin’s way; tellingly, Blue did not. 

“But now you must understand how imperative it is to contain the Black Fairy,” Blue said next.  “What you saw is just a fraction of the evil she is capable of.  If she is not stopped, she will hurt an incalculable number of people.” 

“We’re with you so far,” Charming replied bluntly.  “But I don’t see what this has to do with Henry’s heart.” 

Blue’s response was immediate, and almost painful in how earnest it was.  “The Heart of the Truest Believer is the only power strong enough to keep the Black Fairy in exile.  I am sorry that it is Henry’s heart; I wish it were not so.  But for the good of _all_ , the Black Fairy must be stopped, and this is the only way.  We are talking about the fate of our entire world, not just the life of one boy.”  She turned to look at Henry, neatly avoiding glancing at any of his parents.  “And you will live, Henry.  For centuries, even.  And the fairies will keep you safe.” 

“No.  Wait a minute here,” Regina cut in, glaring at the fairy.  “You’re talking about living without a heart.  I know better than anyone how that’s hardly a life at all.  And what will you do to keep him safe, imprison him?” 

“Of course not.  We have a place prepared already, where Henry would have every comfort—” 

“Away from his family.”  Now it was Emma’s turn to interrupt. 

“It is regrettable, but necessary.  The Black Fairy and the fae are also hunting the Heart of the Truest Believer.  I do not believe that she knows _who_ that heart belongs to yet, but once she learns, the Black Fairy will stop at nothing to capture Henry.  When she does, the conditions under which she keeps him will be far more unpleasant.  And she will _also_ take his heart.” 

“I’d like to see either of you try,” Rumplestiltskin said mildly, lounging back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  The Blue Fairy whirled to face him, and for a moment he saw a hint of panic in her brown eyes. 

“Obviously, this cannot be done without Henry’s consent,” she said as she recovered, looking at Snow and Charming again.  _As if they’d even want to make this decision on their own._   “But it is the _only_ way to save our world.  I am sorry that stopping the Black Fairy comes at such a high price, but it is a price that _must_ be paid.” 

“Wait a minute.  If you had her exiled last time, how did she escape?  And why at such a convenient time?” Charming asked. 

“It does seem strange that her escape comes so soon after the curse breaking, and right around the same time we all returned to the Enchanted Forest,” Snow added. 

Rumplestiltskin didn’t bother resisting the urge to smile.  His pet prince and princess were at it again, showing that they were indeed brilliant enough to lead this war effort—just as they always had been.  There were times they drove him crazy, but they’d been worth the work.  The Blue Fairy, however, took a deep breath and admitted: 

“The last Truest Believer was killed shortly before the curse was cast, by agents of the Witch.  Once that happened, we knew that she was working with the Black Fairy, and probably had been for some time.” 

“And yet you’re trying to tell us that Henry will be _safe_?  Sell me another lie, please,” Regina snorted.  “Make it a better one.” 

“What would you do with my heart?” Henry asked suddenly. 

The fairy turned to face him, smiling gently.  “I would have to put it inside the Black Fairy, after using spells to bind it to her.  Once those spells were complete, she would be unable to remove your heart, and unable to leave the exile she is sent to.  She would be isolated from her magic as well.  But unlike what Pan did to you, this would not kill you, Henry.  You would be safe, and live a very comfortable life.” 

“You’re forgetting to mention that you’d have to catch her first, dearie.”  It was definitely time to intervene, though Rumplestiltskin made no move to adjust his relaxed position.  “And unless I miss my guess, Danns' a'Bhàis might be a _bit_ adverse to walking into your traps.  Particularly since you let her people kill the last Truest Believer and she’s loose for the first time in centuries.” 

“That matter is already well in hand.”  Blue’s scowl was a haughty; from her height, she could look down at the mere human who’d dared meddle in fairy affairs, and she did.  “It is not your concern.” 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly, but his mind was racing behind an outwardly calm exterior.  He wasn’t a man whose nature allowed for easy sharing of information, but perhaps it was time to throw caution to the wind.  _“If you want them to trust you, you have to trust them, too,”_ Henry had told him, and his grandson had always been oddly perceptive.  Snow had promised to trust him after he’d stopped the Black Fairy…but if Blue played her cards right and Rumplestiltskin said nothing, Blue could present herself as the only one who could possibly help them—and Henry would be her price.  

_Not while I’m breathing, he won’t be.  I don’t care if the fate of the world is at stake.  She’s not ripping my grandson’s heart out._  

“We both know it is, dear,” he replied coolly.  “Let’s stop playing games, shall we?  You know what I am as well as I do, what power was hidden behind my curse.  The game’s hardly the same now, as your sister well knows.  The fae have come out with her, and the moment you took Henry’s heart, he’d be targeted by every last one of them.” 

Blue’s eyes narrowed; she glared.  Rumplestiltskin finally stood, his gaze never leaving hers, and walked over to stand an arm’s length away from the still-flying fairy. 

“Your old methods won’t work.  You waited too long, and you can’t put this genie back in the bottle.  Not now.  We’re entering a new age, Reul Ghorm, one you’ve ushered in.” 

“This isn’t my doing,” she retorted, suddenly fierce.  “ _You_ waited too long.  If you’d pushed the curse to be cast—or cast it yourself!—sooner, Henry would have been born earlier.  And none of this would have come to pass.” 

Those angry words stunned him into silence before he could grasp their enormous significance.  Rumplestiltskin’s mind whirled, but Belle caught the reference faster than he did, and suddenly she spoke up incredulously: 

“You meant for this to happen,” Belle accused the Blue Fairy, her voice growing sharper by the second.  “You _wanted_ the curse because Henry’s the price.” 

“ _What?_ ” a half-dozen voices echoed, Regina’s the loudest amongst them.  Henry, however, only looked between all three of his parents, eyes wide and understanding.  He really was such a bright boy.  Rumplestiltskin, however, suddenly felt _cold._  

Belle continued before Blue could get a word in edgewise, looking at the others and explaining: “It makes perfect sense.  Henry is the son of the Savior.  Rumplestiltskin wrote the curse to find Baelfire, who is Henry’s father.  And the woman who cast the curse adopted him.  _Henry_ is the price.”  She swung back to face Blue.  “You planned that when you told Rumple that a curse would take him to the Land Without Magic.  You knew Henry would be the Truest Believer.” 

 For all his Sight, Rumplestiltskin had never seen that—but then, it was always harder to See events that stemmed from those closest to him.  Had the Seer not told him he’d find Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin might never have Seen that for himself; after all, he’d never known that he’d fall in love with Belle, and he’d not had a clue that he’d wind up with a grandson.  An ability to see the future was far from infallible, and though he usually managed to pick out the important bits, he’d never even considered this.  Yet now it all made sense.  Perfect, horrifying sense. 

_And they call_ me _the monster._  

“I have always done what is required to keep our world safe,” Blue replied loftily.  It was not an apology.  Not at all. 

“You _planned_ this?” Unsurprisingly, it was Regina who snarled the words, rising from her seat at the table and glaring at Blue.  “You planned for a child to be born so that you could _use_ him?” 

Had Robin not had his hand on her shoulders, Regina probably would have strode forward and tried to throttle the fairy with her bare hands.  To her left, Tinker Bell looked utterly horrified, her eyes wide and staring at her superior.  Even the Charmings looked like they’d been struck speechless, and it was Baelfire who spoke up next, his voice shaking with rage. 

“You never meant to help me at all, did you?” Rumplestiltskin’s son demanded as his own mind wrapped around a swirling green vortex, around a promise for a better life, of a _lie_ about a world where he and his son could escape from his curse.  Even before the Dark Curse had been broken, he’d heard the whispers of the Dark One inside his mind.  They’d been quieter, but they’d been there ever since he’d remembered who he was.  The Land Without Magic had been no solution to his curse.  Reul Ghorm had set them all up, had destroyed his family as part of her _plan_.  Bae continued, his voice growing harder with each word: “This is what you wanted.  You wanted to send me to another world at _fourteen years old_ so that my father would write that curse.  So that you could get _him_ to rip the world apart for _you_.” 

Rumplestiltskin had never wanted to kill someone so badly in his entire life, but he stopped himself even as power rose to do his bidding, making his fingers tingle ominously.  A wind rose in the room before he could put a lid on the magic, whipping at tapestries and artifacts.  His rage had always been a tangible thing, but now with this power at his disposal, it was particularly dangerous.  _Wait,_ Rumplestiltskin told himself with an effort, hating that he had to.  He _could_ kill Reul Ghorm, he knew.  Oh, it took something special to kill an Original Power, but Charming still wore Excalibur, which would do the trick nicely.  

“I think we have a problem, ladies and gents,” Hook spoke up, looking around the room nervously as the wind grew harder and colder, tearing one painting half off a wall and making a window to Rumplestiltskin’s right creak.  

It would have been so easy.  Power like _no_ human had embraced since Merlin’s capture reared up within Rumplestiltskin, ready and willing to crush the Blue Fairy.  But—and the knowledge burned—he _needed_ her to balance out her sister.  Because he didn’t want to take her self-appointed place in the world.  She could play at being the original goodness all she wanted.  Rumplestiltskin preferred to remain in the middle. 

“Welcome to your brave new world, _dearie_ ,” he sneered at her instead of voicing his own thoughts.  The wind slowed slightly, but did not die; he was still too furious to stop it.  “And now you get to live in it with the rest of us.” 

“I am not here to argue with anyone,” Blue retorted, her eyes seeking out each person around the table in turn.  “But you are overlooking the most important fact: if _I_ do not take Henry’s heart and keep him _safe_ , the Black Fairy will, and she will do far worse.” 

“I will kill either one of you if you so much as try,” Rumplestiltskin growled softly, pleased to see how her head whipped around to stare at him, though the calculation that ripped through her eyes was less than gratifying.  “This is the only warning you get.  And don’t think I don’t know how.” 

A pin dropping would have sounded deafening in that room; only Blue was brazen enough to say: 

“You would not dare.” 

He laughed again, soft and dangerous.  “Would I not?”  Rumplestiltskin stepped very close to her, closing the distance between them in one long stride, and the wind picked up again.  He was holding onto his temper by a very thin thread, and the power wanted to let it loose.  “I’m not Merlin, dear.  I don’t have his… _fascination_ with doing what’s right.  You’re threatening my grandson, and I’ve never had a problem killing fairies.” 

Reul Ghorm had never lacked courage; the threat made her blink, but her chin jutted forward stubbornly and she looked Rumplestiltskin right in the eye.  Her voice was steady, although she didn’t look to be enjoying what she said at all.  Truth be told, Rumplestiltskin didn’t much like it, either, but he’d not grown into someone who’d manipulated an entire world into doing his bidding without facing up to the fact that certain necessities were distasteful. 

“What _exactly_ are you suggesting, then?” 

“Stop preparing to _trap_ Danns' a'Bhàis.  You’ll never duplicate the circumstances that allowed you to do it last time.  Work with us.  She”—he jabbed a finger at a startled Tinker Bell—“shouldn’t be the only fairy who gives a damn about the people you supposedly want to protect.  Be what you’re supposed to be, _Reul Ghorm._ ” 

“And if I choose to withdraw the fairies from this conflict instead?” the Blue Fairy asked coolly. 

“Then don’t be surprised when we don’t do a damn thing to help you,” Regina answered, and Rumplestiltskin stepped away from Blue with a knowing smile.  He just quirked an eyebrow at the fairy when his former student answered for him, and she glared back. 

“We’d rather work with you than against you,” Charming spoke up, his tone reasonable but his expression implacable as he, too, rose to his feet.  For once, Rumplestiltskin appeared to be on the side of the angels—how unsettling.   Snow added: 

“Answer this for me, please.  If you were to take Henry’s heart, could you guarantee that the war would end?  That the fae would stop killing, and the Witch would be defeated?” 

“Child, I—” 

“That’s a no,” Emma cut in.  “I’ve heard enough.  I’m with Rumplestiltskin.  You come near Henry, and you’re dead.” 

United opposition from the Charming family finally seemed to rattle Blue, but she gathered herself to speak directly to Snow.  “There will come a time when you need my help, and you will know what needs to be done.” 

On that note, Reul Ghorm departed, flying out the doors that Rumplestiltskin helpfully flicked open with a touch of his magic.  Still scowling, Regina lowered herself back into her chair, but Rumplestiltskin chose to remain standing, feeling rage and power rush through himself, the pent up heartbreak of years threatening to shake him to his very core.  His choices had been his own—and yet Belle had to right.  Reul Ghorm had used him as thoroughly as he’d used anyone else, and she’d sentenced his son to years of hell in Neverland to do so.  The monster still inside him _really_ regretted not killing her. 

A harder gust of wind whipped around the room, just for a moment, before he could rein his temper back in. _This ends here,_ Rumplestiltskin promised himself, fury lending the thought sharp-edged clarity.  _No matter what I have to do, this_ ends _here._   Fairy manipulation had ruined his son’s life. In a rather less than abstract way, it had ruined him as well, for if the Black Fairy had never created that damned curse, he’d never have become the monster Bae had feared so much.  Without the fairies playing their damn games, he and Regina would never have ripped the world apart between them, either.  Those facts didn’t absolve either of them, of course, but having made their own choices did not mean the fairies were blameless.   

“That went about as well as could be expected,” Charming finally spoke up drolly.  Regina and several others snorted.  Hubert and Leah just looked stunned.  Snow, however, turned to look at Rumplestiltskin as finally shoved his fury into a bottle. 

“What do you mean, you’re ‘not Merlin’?”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think the Blue Fairy will do now? Will she help, or will she pull the fairies out of the conflict all together and hope she can protect her people from the fae? Perhaps more importantly, do you think Rumplestiltskin’s going to lose control of his temper and just kill her?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 24: “Out of Book”, in which Rumplestiltskin starts to play the long game and Emma plans a mission to find the Janus Stone. Kudos to those who can figure out what the title references.


	25. Out of Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is fallout from the Blue Fairy's visit, Emma plans a mission, and Rumplestiltskin and Belle share a moment. And yes, there is Baelfire.

**_Chapter Twenty-Four—“Out of Book”_ **

 

Rumplestiltskin vanished out of the great hall almost as soon as he’d finished explaining—rather more honestly than Belle expected—what he’d become.  She was proud of him, but also too smart to follow him; the last two days had been rough on him, and she knew he needed his space.  He’d bury himself in work for a little while, and when Rumple was ready to come up for air, Belle would be there. 

“That went better than I expected,” Bae commented quietly, moving over to join her.  Belle had headed over to the spiral staircase on the north side of the hall—it led to the library, and she was still hunting for any more books that included references to the Heart of the Truest Believer.  Rumplestiltskin’s—or rather, Merlin’s—memories were useful on that front, but Rumple had difficulties sorting through them without battling through the haze that three decades of pain put over them. Belle hated to ask him to do that when she could just find the answer in a book, and his encounter with the Black Fairy had unnerved him enough that she didn’t want to.  Even if he was trying desperately to hide that. 

“Their reactions or him explaining?” she asked as Bae walked up the stairs with her. 

“Both, I guess.  Though I’m not sure why Pop thought they’d react badly.  I don’t think any of them really appreciate the difference in power levels we’re talking about here, except maybe Tink and Regina.  And Regina sure as hell didn’t look surprised.” 

“I think he told her,” Belle agreed.  The odd friendship between Regina and Rumple was often hard to understand, but at least she and the Evil Queen had cleared the air between them long before they’d found Rumplestiltskin.  Belle wasn’t ever going to _forget_ the twenty-eight years that Regina had locked her up for (technically it was almost thirty, if she counted the time in the Enchanted Forest before the curse was cast), but she was willing to forgive. Regina was trying as hard as Rumplestiltskin was, and that counted for a lot. 

Not that Belle was going to expect an apology this side of the next decade.  Maybe Regina would think of it someday, but until then, Belle could work with her.  

Bae shrugged.  “Probably.” 

Neither said a word as they reached the library, and Bae held the door open for her.  Belle shot him a smile.  He really did remind her of Rumplestiltskin in the small ways—although watching Baelfire snarl at the Blue Fairy had certainly highlighted the similarities between father and son.  She was so glad that they’d finally made peace with one another, and not only because she knew how badly Rumplestiltskin had wanted to reconnect with his son.  She and Bae had become very close in the year they’d thought his father was dead, and although Belle would never really view him as a son (not with how much older than her Bae was!), he was still a very close friend.  Family, even if her relationship with Rumplestiltskin wasn’t official. 

“So,” she asked as they sat down on a couch in the library.  “What’s on your mind?” 

“Who says I have to have something on my mind?” he countered, sounding disturbingly like his father. 

Belle just gave him a look. 

“Okay, fine,” Bae relented.  “Maybe I do.  I’m kind of surprised Papa told them.  Is he okay after yesterday? 

They were probably the only two people who’d been in that room that didn’t look at Rumplestiltskin and think of the sheer power he’d displayed during the christening.  Bae was like Belle; he wondered how his father was holding up after facing off with the woman who had tortured him for a year.  Also like Belle, he clearly understood that Rumplestiltskin would never admit to weakness unless forced, particularly where half their world could see it.  _He’s told me more than once that he’d rather be evil than weak,_ Belle mused.  _I just hope that these powers give him a third option, even though it’s not one he’s used to having._  

“More or less,” Belle answered honestly.  “His nightmares kept him up most of last night.”  And her, too, but that was all right. 

Bae grimaced.  “He never told me how bad it was, but…” 

“It was bad.” 

Belle would never forget the sight of Rumplestiltskin hanging limply in those chains, bloody and frightened, looking ready to die.  She’d never forget how Regina had told her how he wasn’t likely to survive the night, holding her True Love in her arms and knowing she was about to lose him again.  Whatever the price attached to his new magic, _Merlin’s_ magic, Belle was grateful for it.  Without it, he probably would never have been able to recover from what the Black Fairy had done to him, even with Tink’s help.  He still had nightmares, and probably always would, but Belle was at least able to help him through them, and Rumplestiltskin was finally learning to accept the fact that she always would.  

“I figured,” Bae said quietly, glancing away for a moment.  “It still bothers him?” 

“More than he lets on.”  Although Belle hated talking behind Rumplestiltskin’s back like this, Bae was the one person she knew he trusted aside from her.  “But he’s getting better, truly.” 

“Good.”  His voice was a little gruff, and Belle squeezed his arm.  By some miracle, despite his experiences, Bae was less emotionally handicapped than his father, but neither of them was especially great about discussing sensitive issues with one another.  After a moment of silence, Bae asked hesitantly: “He can do this, right?  Protect Henry?” 

“You know how he feels about family, Bae.” 

He shook his head.  “I’m not doubting that he _will_.  I just want to make sure it’s not going to destroy him.  That he won’t…I don’t know what.” 

“Turn back?” Belle asked quietly. 

A silent nod was the only response she got.  No wonder he didn’t want to ask Rumplestiltskin about this.  Belle squeezed his arm again and looked into brown eyes just like the ones she knew so well. 

“I don’t think he can, Bae,” she replied honestly.  “And I know he doesn’t want to.  He values his freedom too much.  And his family.” 

“Good.”  Finally, a smile crept its way onto Bae’s face, and Belle could see that just sharing his doubts had helped him.  She smiled back, but was surprised when he added: “So, when is he going to marry you, anyway?” 

Belle started.  “What?” 

“C’mon.  It’s not like you two aren’t practically married, anyway,” Bae retorted, his eyes suddenly dancing. “When are you going to make it official?” 

“We haven’t…really talked about it,” she hesitated.  “Not since Storybrooke, anyway.” 

“Well, if it’s me you’re worried about, don’t.  I’m never going to call you Mom, or anything—being older than you would make that really awkward—but you’re already family.” 

Belle had to swallow before she could find her voice.  “Thank you, Bae.”

 

****************

 

Tinker Bell travelled to the fairies’ lands the day after Blue left the Dark Castle for the last time, hoping to find that the senior fairy had indeed not chosen to remove the fairies from the war against the Black Fairy (few bought into the fiction that the Witch was the main enemy any longer; it was painfully obvious who was behind her) altogether.  But she returned disheartened, glumly telling Regina that her friends amongst the fairies expected to be told to guard their own borders and only reach out to help those Blue felt _deserving_ of their assistance.  Regina, in turn, fetched Rumplestiltskin and—interestingly enough—Emma, and the three magic users sat down with the possibly-former fairy to talk strategy. 

“There are hundreds of fairies,” Tink said desolately.  “How are we going to make up for that?  Especially with Emma having no training at all.  No offense.” 

“Actually…Regina’s going to help me fix that,” Emma replied after a hesitation, and Rumplestiltskin felt his eyebrows try to mate with his hairline. 

“Really?” he couldn’t help drawling. 

“Shut up.” 

“Upset she didn’t come to you?” Regina tried taunting him, but the smile in her eyes was friendly enough.  For her. 

Rumplestiltskin snorted. “I’m sure she will after you two try to kill one another for the umpteenth time.” 

“Hey!” Emma objected, but Regina shrugged elegantly. 

“Probably.” 

“Can we get back to the topic at hand, please?” Tink pleaded, and Rumplestiltskin found himself very grateful for the fairy’s level-headedness. 

“Maleficent will be with us, particularly if the rest of the fairies aren’t,” Regina pointed out.  “And no offense to your former colleagues, but the three of us—and even Emma, once she starts figuring things out—are worth at least our weight in fairies.  When they’re tiny.” 

Holding back a snort was beyond him, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t try very hard, either.  Regina’s acidic sense of humor always had been to his tastes, particularly when they were throwing the barbs at one another.  Still, amusement aside, there was work to be done—and with the exception of the Savior, none of them at this table were particularly likely ones to be the world’s only hope.  _Time to change that_ , _if I can._   “There are others,” he pointed out slowly.  “Some are more minor magic users than others, but we’ll have an advantage when it comes to getting them on our side.” 

“What, your good looks and charm?” Regina shot back immediately. 

Rumplestiltskin laughed humorlessly.  “No, that the fae will likely kill them given half the chance.  Danns' a'Bhàis won’t tolerate opposition if she can easily destroy it, and alone, they are all easy targets.  United with us, they may just survive.” 

“You really do have Merlin’s powers, don’t you?” Tink interjected before Regina could respond, looking at Rumplestiltskin levelly.  “And his memories?” 

“Some of them.”  And he didn’t _like_ admitting it, wished he could change this subject easily, but three sets of eyes were now fastened on Rumplestiltskin, and he regretted telling the others the truth two days earlier.  Henry might have been right—at least the Charmings hadn’t decided he was evil incarnate again once Rumplestiltskin had admitted he was now more powerful than he’d ever been as the Dark One—but it still left him damn uncomfortable. 

“Do you know what happened between the two of them?  Blue and the Black Fairy, I mean.”  Tink asked the question he hadn’t expected.  “We only know stories.  Legends, mainly.  What does the Black Fairy want?” 

There were a million answers he could provide; Danns had never been _simple_.  But the root of the sisters’ conflict had always been about power, about humanity itself and who would steer the course the future would take.  Powerful as fairies were, their fates were tied to humanity’s far more than either sister would care to admit.  It was simply the way of things in their world.  They were the closest to deities that the Enchanted Forest possessed, the granters of wishes and the arbitragers of fate. But some wished to _serve_ more than others. 

“Power,” he answered slowly, finding the word inadequate.  “Toys.” 

“Toys?” Emma echoed warily, clearly catching the implication right away.  But then, their Savior had always been smart, even when she drove him mad. 

“The conflict between Reul Ghorm and Danns' a'Bhàis has always been over humanity.  Reul Ghorm wants to _protect_ humans, to be our ‘loving’ guardian and to keep us on the _right_ path.  Danns' a'Bhàis has always wanted…more.  She wants control, to toy with humanity as she wishes.  That’s what they fought over.” 

It was an oversimplification, but the actual story would have taken hours to explain. 

Regina’s eyebrows made a fair bid at mating with her elaborately coifed hair.  “Are you telling me that the blue insect really _is_ the better of the two?  That’s she’s actually trying to _help_?” 

“Well, if you’re willing to live by her rules, I’m sure she’s goodness incarnate,” he replied dryly.  

“And if you aren’t?” Emma demanded. 

“Once there was a balance of power,” Rumplestiltskin answered her question obliquely.  “Neither fairy could overpower the other because Merlin was certain to side with whichever was losing.  However, he never actually needed to—because if either turned their back on him to concentrate on her sister, that left too much power unchecked.  Eventually, Danns moved to change the status quo, from which resulted the curse that yours truly inherited.” He gestured at himself with a flourish and a wry smile.  “Of course, that didn’t do her much good.  Reul Ghorm managed to somehow get the Heart of the Truest Believer in her chest, and that put a bit of a damper on her ambitions.” 

“You talk like you know her,” Tink said with a frown.  “The Black Fairy.” 

That made Rumplestiltskin blink.  “I suppose I do.  Or my memories do, anyway.”  He shrugged, but decided not to let them in on the interesting fact that the Black Fairy still thought he was Merlin.  No, that was best kept to himself.  Instead, Rumplestiltskin waved a hand dismissively.  “How is not important.  What _does_ matter is that we do have to counter the fae in any way we can.  And for that we need every magic user we can find.” 

“I vote Tink plays the diplomat,” Regina piped up immediately.  “Swan here is likely to shoot them if they disagree, and you and I don’t exactly have the best reputations.” 

They shared an oddly understanding smile over that.  Regina was the one person who probably knew exactly how out of place Rumplestiltskin sometimes felt.  Both had lived in darkness for so long that sometimes even _thinking_ of being something else was unsettling, and even if they were both trying to be better, sometimes old habits died hard.  Not to mention well-earned fearsome reputations. 

“I quite agree,” he replied, watching Tink smile.  Rumplestiltskin hated fairies on principle, but he was pretty sure that he’d have to make a permanent exception for Tinker Bell.  “And actually, I have idea of something far better for you to do, Regina.  One that will utilize your _talents_ perfectly.” 

She rolled her eyes, clearly hearing how his sense of humor wanted to jump into this conversation.  “And what’s that?” 

“I want you to pay your sister a visit.”

 

****************

 

“That went better than I’d expected,” David said to Bae a few hours after the battle.  It was their third battle in as many days; the pair had left the Dark Castle the evening after the Blue Fairy had shown up, returning to the army to start working on winning the war once and for all.  Three successive victories left them both feeling pretty good, and although neither was willing to count the Witch out yet, her newest general didn’t seem to be on par with the last two.  Shan Yu was a fierce bastard, to be sure—and apparently had a grudge against Mulan for reasons the younger woman hadn’t yet fully explained—but he wasn’t brilliant.  Their last pincher move had trapped Shan Yu between Baelfire’s cavalry and Mulan’s shock troops, and between the three of them, they’d almost managed to destroy his entire army. 

Almost.  A quartet of ogres prevented their last victory from being a total victory, but still, they’d done damn well.  And Bae hadn’t had to call in his father to deal with the ogres, either—they’d lumbered off with the rest of Shan Yu’s forces in retreat, which really made the day better.  _Ogres always suck,_ Bae thought to himself with a smile, looking out over the army’s camp.  _But we got the better of them today._  

“Tell me about it,” he breathed in response.  Mulan was off with Grumpy, who wasn’t doing as well as the dwarf would like others to believe.  Oh, Grumpy _tried_ to pretend he was okay, but there was obviously a hole where his heart used to be, and Bae knew nothing but time could heal that.  If anything could at all. 

“Something the matter?” David asked him. 

“Nah.  Just thinking deep thoughts,” Bae replied with a smile.  “Likely to drown myself if I keep that up, though.” 

“Well, quit.  We can’t have the Enchanted Forest’s newest knight doing that.  Not this soon.” David’s grin didn’t help much; Bae still found himself turning red. 

“Will you quit it with that?” he asked, embarrassed.  He _still_ wanted to kill his father for not warning him. Or David for the same.  Either one of them would do, really.  He turned on Emma’s father with a scowl.  “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” 

David laughed.  “The look on your face was worth it.” 

“Bastard.” 

“Nope,” the king replied cheerfully. “I might have been a shepherd, but never a bastard.  My parents were married, thank you very much.” 

Bae could only roll his eyes, but David’s serious response to the question made his mind suddenly turn to that subject.  He’d used “bastard” as a light-hearted insult towards a friend, but David had approached the topic like a King would—or like anyone who’d spent their formative years in the Enchanted Forest.  Here, being born out of wedlock left a taint on any child, and even high-born bastards were often ostracized by society.  Back in the Land Without Magic, having only one parent was a depressingly normal tragedy that some children faced, but _here…_   No one looked at things the same way.  Not when both parents were alive but unmarried, or even just separated.  Hell, Bae remembered the scandal Milah leaving had caused, even though they’d thought she was unwilling.  The town had talked of nothing else for months, and he and his father had been sneered at even worse than before, because everyone knew Milah, and knew she’d “asked”for something like that to happen. 

Henry.  God, how could he not have thought of that before?  By the antiquated feudal rules of the society Bae now lived in, his son was a bastard.  Henry was royalty on one side, but according to a screwed up world he hadn’t even been born in, he was a bastard.  How long would it take before someone realized that?  Bae wasn’t foolish enough to think that the years in Storybrooke had made anyone’s opinions change, and that meant _Henry_ would pay the price for his parents having been products of the world they inhabited when he was conceived.  And there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it, not thirteen years after the fact. 

_Unless—_  

Well, that did mean he really _was_ going to have to have the conversation he’d been planning on having with David.  And now would probably be a good time to bite the bullet and man up.  Mouth suddenly dry, Bae forced himself to speak up, noticing how David was eyeing him curiously, probably wondering why he’d gone so quiet. 

“So, uh, speaking of, well…people,” he started, inwardly cursing himself for sounding so foolish.  He wasn’t some nineteen year old kid!  Bae was almost three hundred years old, and even if he’d spent the bulk of those years at fifteen, that was an enormous amount of life experience. _And I bet Hook would get this out without missing beat.  He’d probably sound convincing, too._   Not frowning was hard, so he took a deep breath instead. 

“Go on,” David urged him, and at least the damn man wasn’t smiling too much. Or laughing at him.  Bae’d have killed him if he’d started laughing. 

He wished he had pockets to stuff his hands into.  Really, he did.  Squaring his shoulders didn’t help, but he took the plunge anyway. 

“So, I never really asked you about how you felt about, y’know, Emma and me,” Bae said as casually as he could manage.  “I mean, I know we kind of stuck you with Henry before you really met Emma and all, and that I’m kind of the odd afterthought that happens to be Henry’s dad.  But, uh…how do you feel about us _now?_ ” 

Man, that was seriously the least graceful way he could have phrased the question, but at least it was out.  David looked to be fighting back a smile, but was he laughing at his idiocy or something else? 

“Baelfire, are you asking permission to court my daughter?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”  At least he didn’t beat around that one.  How crazy was he, asking to court a princess?  _They can knight me, but I’m still a spinner’s kid from the Frontlands.  Even if Pop is, well,_ different _now._ This was going to be a disaster, but Bae loved Emma, and always had.  He’d screwed up enough between them, and he wanted to make things right.  To _do_ things right.  For Emma. 

“Usually, men ask that question _before_ they take a princess to a ball,” David pointed out. 

“To be fair, she asked me and not the other way around.” 

David laughed at Bae’s crooked smile; thankfully, the other man was used to his off-beat sense of humor.  And Emma _had_ asked Bae to go with her.  _We’re never going to have a traditional courtship.  I really hope Snow doesn’t expect that._ David was more realistic, but Snow… 

“Why am I not surprised?” was all the king said before shrugging.  “I think you asking is kind of redundant at this point. You two already have a kid, and Emma’s _my_ age, sort of.  And saying she’s got a mind of her own is kind of an understatement.  Even if I told her to stay away from you, she wouldn’t.” 

“Do you want her to?” 

“No.”  David looked him right in the eye, and Bae was ever so grateful for how direct and honest the man was.  “You have my blessing, for what it’s worth.  Emma’s another matter.” 

“You can say that again,” he breathed.  “I’m working on her.” 

David grinned.  “Good luck.  But I don’t think you’ll need it.” 

“I think you _might_ just be a little overly optimistic.  As usual,” Bae shot back.  “Can we go back to planning battles now?  That’s a lot easier than planning my love life.” 

“You got it, Sir Baelfire.” 

David dodged as Bae swung at him playfully. 

“Jerk.”

 

****************

 

“I’ll be _fine,_ Rumple,” Belle said for the fifteenth time—she was counting.  It was his own fault that the look she gave him was exasperated.  Yes, she loved him to pieces, but he was really quite silly sometimes.  “I know it could be dangerous, but it’s going to be a lot _less_ dangerous than what you’re planning on.” 

His expression was innocent, and Rumplestiltskin spread his hands out in a gesture that clearly said he had no idea what Belle was talking about.  Brown human eyes were wide and guileless; this human face of his really was much better at hiding his inner thoughts than Rumple thought it was.  But Belle knew him better than that.  She glared, so he shrugged a little. “I’m not exactly _planning_ anything dangerous, Belle.” 

“No.  You’re just going to go investigate where the fae are hiding.” 

“I already know where they’re hiding,” he corrected her.  “I just want to see what _else_ they’re up to.” 

“Rumple.” 

Relenting—she could see it in the way his shoulders sagged slightly—Rumplestiltskin stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  “If I promise I’ll be careful, can I worry about _you_?” he asked plaintively. 

“Maybe.”  Despite herself, Belle chuckled, nestling against his chest.  The longest they’d spent apart since his return had been three days, but the mission Belle had volunteered to join promised to take much longer than that.  Rumplestiltskin was going to take them on the first leg of their journey, but they’d proceed on foot from there, and none of them knew for sure how long looking for the Janus Stone would take.  All Belle knew was that she needed to do _something_ , and there were likely to be any number of traps around such a powerful magical object.  Emma needed someone with a brain along, so she’d volunteered. 

“I know why you need to go,” Rumplestiltskin murmured into her hair.  “I just…I’ll miss you.” 

Turning around in his arms to kiss him lightly, Belle felt a smile softening her own determination.  True Love could be such a nuisance sometimes; she felt incomplete when she spent too much time away from him, and she knew Rumple felt the same.  Particularly now, when he was still fragile in odd ways and struggling to accept what he knew he had to be.  “And I’ll miss you.” 

They held onto one another in silence for a long moment, just savoring the closeness.  There had been a time when Belle had _known_ she’d never have this again; she’d railed against the knowledge that he was dead and explored every possible way to bring him back, but nothing had worked.  Searching for the dagger hadn’t helped, either; there’d been no sign of it, and eventually Belle had been so caught up in the war that she’d had to put her efforts on hold.  Neither she or Bae had ever admitted to giving up, but a day had finally come when she’d had to admit to herself that Rumplestiltskin had been gone for good.  That knowledge had torn a hole in her heart that could never have healed…until they found him in Bremen, and Belle’s broken heart had mended instantly. 

Still, she knew her infuriating True Love well enough to know there were still some topics he might never broach, which left Belle doing the hard emotional work.  As usual.  She didn’t particularly _mind,_ but there were times she really wished Rumplestiltskin was a little different in that respect. _He is a little better,_ she reminded herself, remembering her surprise when he’d asked her to kiss him in front of hundreds of people.  He was usually so much more private than that, and she was proud of him for being willing to show others their love.  Still, the ball was definitely in her court, and Belle had a plan. 

“Maybe when I return you’ll make an honest woman out of me?” she suggested as casually as she could, remembering her conversation with Baelfire a few days earlier. 

“Hm?” he asked noncommittally, but Belle felt Rumplestiltskin’s sudden tension and knew he’d gotten the hint. 

“My father was talking about sending suitors after me again,” she told him, remembering her dances with her father and grimacing.  “I told him not to bother.” 

“Belle, you—” 

Leaning back to look in his eyes, Belle had a finger on his lips before Rumplestiltskin got to the third word.  She knew he was speaking out of habit, but she still had no intention of letting him finish.  “Don’t you dare tell me that I deserve someone better than you, Rumplestiltskin,” she told him firmly.  “I love you as much as you love me, and I am _not_ going anywhere.  I will not leave you.  Ever.” 

“Belle…”  The wonderment mixed with pain in his eyes made her heart clench, and Belle kissed him again. 

She knew his insecurities, after all.  She knew that a part of Rumplestiltskin would always wonder when she would leave, because he’d loved so very few in his long life, and most of them had left him in one way or another.  Belle wasn’t offended by that knowledge, not anymore; she knew it wasn’t a rational fear.  For such a powerful man, he was still unbelievably timid when it came to his personal relationships, and Belle knew that sometimes he needed her to be the strong one. 

“I promised you forever,” she whispered against his lips, their foreheads touching.  “Forever is what you get, and if this is all you want—” 

He started to cut her off shakily.  “I don’t—” 

Belle kissed him again to shut him up.  “We’ll talk about it when I get back,” she said, knowing he needed time.  “All right?” 

“All right,” Rumplestiltskin echoed, and Belle felt his arms tighten around her.  “I promise.” 

He was making progress.  She hadn’t even had to ask him to promise that, and Belle smiled.

 

****************

 

“Are you sure you can come along without it getting awkward?” Emma asked Hook, wishing _so_ hard that the answer was no.  But really, with this odd little group they’d assembled, how could it _not_ be awkward? 

Belle and Ruby were valiantly pretending to ignore their conversation, standing near the large table and joking quietly with one another.  Gold was off talking to Emma’s _mother_ , of all people—apparently, they’d agreed to share the Henry watching duties between them while all three of his parents were off doing various missions and David was off with the army.  The two of them seemed to be getting along better these days, and Emma was damn glad for that.  Gold— _Rumplestiltskin_ , she reminded herself, finally understanding the difference between the two—was probably the best chance they had of winning this damn war.  Emma was far too practical to get wrapped around how ironic that was.  Besides, she was quite literally sleeping with the man’s son, again, so Emma supposed that she couldn’t cast too many stones in that direction. 

“What exactly do you mean?” Hook asked warily, and Emma could see the hurt in his eyes.  Her heart clenched in her chest; Hook was a good man, and she hated doing this to him.  Nothing would change her attraction to him, but in the end, Emma knew that attraction wasn’t enough. 

Besides, which Henry had already found her in bed with his birth father two mornings earlier, and that was practically the equivalent of taking out an ad in the paper.  In full color.  By now, she was quite certain that her parents knew she was back together with Neal, and Gold probably knew, too—assuming Neal hadn’t just straight up told him.  _Damn, am I ever going to get their names right?_   Neal/Baelfire had told her he didn’t care what she called him, that she’d met him as Neal, and he was fine with her calling him that if she wanted to.  Maybe it could be a pet name of some sort, he’d joked before Regina had delivered him and David back to the army, and Emma could only laugh. 

Now, however, she took a deep breath and tried to banish the crooked half smile that remembering put on her face.  “You know what I mean,” Emma replied as gently as she could.  “I’m…Neal and I— _Baelfire_ and I—are going to try to give this a shot.  For Henry.  And for…for us.” 

“I see.”  Hook rocked back on his heels, eyes wide with shock, and Emma bit her lip. 

“Look.  I told you before we went to the christening together,” she plowed onwards as calmly as she could.  “I don’t want to hurt you.  You’ve become one of the best friends I’ll ever have.  But I won’t lie to you.  It isn’t fair.” 

The pirate shrugged.  “I appreciate that,” he said gruffly, and Emma stepped forward to put a hand on his arm. 

“If you’re doing this to try for another chance…just don’t,” she pleaded.  “We’ve got to find the Janus Stone, and we can’t afford to be distracted.” 

“I’ll do the job, love.  I always do,” he replied with a pained smile.  “And if friends is what you want to be, that’s what we’ll be.” 

Emma knew she was hurting him, and wished there was some other way, but all she could do was offer him a smile and a hug.  Hook really _had_ become a good friend, and Emma didn’t want to lose him because of some stupid love triangle she’d never meant to get into. 

“Thank you, Killian,” she said quietly, glad that he hugged her back. 

“You’re welcome, Swan.” 

She was spared from having to come up with something else to say by Rumplestiltskin showing up.  Belle greeted him with a smile, of course—and damn, didn’t a part of Emma envy _them_ , a thought she’d never expected to have—and somehow the older man resisted the urge to say something obnoxious.  _There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.  Gold’s passing up the opportunity to be an asshole.  I suppose he_ has _changed._   Good thing, because someday the sharp-tongued manipulator might just wind up as her father-in-law. 

“Everyone ready?” Rumplestiltskin asked mildly. 

Emma glanced over at Ruby and Belle before looking at Hook again.  They all nodded, so she straightened her shoulders and replied: “Yeah.  Let’s go find this rock of yours.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, “Quiet Minds” was a bit heartbreaking in so many ways. That said, Baelfire will be alive and well for this fic—although I do have a few character deaths in mind coming up, I will promise that he isn't one of them!
> 
> In the meantime, stick around for Chapter 25: “Looking in the Mirror”, in which Emma and company continue on their quest, Tink gets in trouble, and Regina goes to see her sister.


	26. Looking in the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Regina visits her sister, Tink gets in trouble, and Emma goes looking for the Janus Stone.

**_Chapter Twenty-Five—“Looking in the Mirror”_ **

 

“I’m going to _kill_ him,” Regina groused for the umpteenth time, and Robin rolled his eyes fondly.  Over the last year or so, he’d come to know the Evil Queen well, and had thoroughly fallen for her—but there were times that her vicious side could get a bit old. 

“You know, love, if you tried saying that a little less fondly, I might believe you mean it,” he needled her. 

Regina paused in their trek through the tunnels under her old castle to glare at him.  “Shut up, Robin.” 

“You know you love me.”  He shot her a cheeky grin, and was rewarded by the slight flush of red he saw highlight Regina’s cheekbones.  Sometimes Robin wondered if she had any idea how beautiful she was, and other times he was certain that Regina had no clue.  He’d talked to Belle more than once about the perils of loving someone whose own darkness sometimes overshadowed the goodness you knew was inside, but his old friend was right.  The fight was well worth it. 

“Of course I do.” 

The great thing about Regina, of course, was that when she wanted something, she was unbelievably single-minded in pursuing her goal.  Robin had found that out early on, but being the direct sort himself, the intensity of her affections didn’t bother him in the slightest.  Once she admitted she was interested in him, anyway.  So, when Regina stopped to kiss him, Robin kissed her back with equal fervor.  After all, they were hardly trying for subtle.  If the Witch didn’t know they were here already, taking a little extra time in the tunnels might just alert her. 

“So, what is between the two of you, anyway?” he asked curiously as they continued onwards, bow at the ready and no Witch in sight.  “You and Rumplestiltskin?” 

“He taught me magic,” Regina replied after a moment. 

“So, he’s an old friend.” 

She hesitated, and Robin could see decades of suppressed emotions washing over her face.  “It’s more complicated than that.” 

“I’ve got time,” he assured her, bumping his shoulder against hers gently.  

“We fought for years, sometimes a friendly competition, and sometimes not.  We did horrible things to one another.  I tried to get Belle to unknowingly strip his powers off him.  He manipulated me into casting the curse, and then double crossed me and helped break it.  I locked Belle up.  Thing is…he was my only friend for the longest time.  The only one who understood me, and never actually _lied_ to me.” 

“So, he’s an old friend,” Robin repeated, trying not to smile too much. 

His lover glared.  “Yes, he’s an old friend.” 

“Do you trust him?”  That was probably the only important question to ask.  Robin was pretty sure what his own feelings on the matter were—being friends with Belle and the man’s son sort of balanced out the fact that the former Dark One had once tried to skin him alive—but he was interested in Regina’s perspective.  She’d known Rumplestiltskin a lot longer, and was worlds more powerful than Robin could ever dream of being.  Regina understood magic, which Robin had always avoided after that unfortunate lesson in the Dark Castle, and if anyone amongst their odd group of allies understood Rumplestiltskin, she was the one.

“Of course not.”  But the answer was obviously automatic, and after a moment, Regina shrugged.  “I mean, he’ll do what he says he will.  Make a deal with him, and he’ll—” 

They stopped cold, freezing side by side.  Guided by instinct, Robin’s bow came up, and suddenly there was a green-skinned woman standing in front of them, just yards before they could have entered the crypt. 

“Ah, hello,” Robin piped up cheerfully, and watched the Wicked Witch of the West turn to glare at him.  He’d missed Regina’s last confrontation with her half-sister, but he wasn’t about to miss this one. 

He took a moment to study her before everything went to hell, noticing that if it weren’t for the green skin, the Witch would have been a far more attractive woman.  She was dressed expensively—probably in Regina’s clothes, he realized, based on what Regina told him about their last encounter—and held her chin in the haughty manner adopted by those with something to prove.  Oddly enough, Robin’s first impression of her was that she lacked self-confidence, which was an odd thing to think about the woman who had been terrorizing their world for the better part of two years, even before Regina and the others got back from Storybrooke.  But there was something in the way she stood that screamed _Look at me!  I matter!_ , and Robin found that very strange.  After everything she’d ever done, what did the Witch think she had to prove? 

“Bringing your boyfriend home to meet the family?” Zelena purred, glancing at Regina. “I’m touched.” 

The Evil Queen all but snarled aloud from Robin’s right.  “I don’t have anything that _friendly_ in mind, I assure you.” 

“Oooh.  Are you feeling possessive over your wuddle castle again?” A green-skinned woman looked odd wearing a pouty face. 

“Of course I am.  But I’m not here to try to oust you, Zelena.  I’m here to offer you a deal even if I don’t think you deserve it,” Regina retorted, matching her smirk for smirk.  “One that ends with you alive, which believe me, is better than I’m inclined to offer you under other circumstances.”

 

****************

 

“You again,” Grumpy snarled.  

He’d gone for a walk outside the army camp, needing to get away from the healers’ tent and all the memories of Astrid held inside it.  Oh, he’d been doing his duty and helping with the wounded—there weren’t as many as there might have been after this last battle, but a few of them had needed care through the night, so he’d stayed up with them.  It wasn’t like he was sleeping much, anyway.  Not when visions of Astrid kept dancing in front of him every time he closed his eyes.  No thank you.  Grumpy would stay awake rather than face that.  Maybe someday he’d be able to deal with the loss…but not yet.  

Now that he hadn’t slept in a day and a half, the ever-painful throb of loss was starting to numb.  He was so tired that he could hardly think, and if he kept believing that Astrid was waiting around a corner for him, Grumpy wasn’t quite loopy enough to think that true.  Perhaps in another day or so the hallucinations would start to talk, and then he’d _really_ be in trouble—but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care.  In fact, the only thing in the world that could make him care was suddenly standing right in front of him: the slender, dark-haired and eyed fae who had slain his True Love. 

When he’d drawn his sword, Grumpy didn’t know.  Only that he faced off with Norco and a chance to avenge Astrid was standing right in front of him. 

“Me again,” the fae sang cheerfully, but obviously didn’t expect the lunge. 

Grumpy didn’t feel the need to have a conversation.  He certainly wasn’t going to give this fae bastard a chance to steal his sword away again and mock him.  He just wanted to kill Norco, no words required.  So, he charged in, sword in hand and ready to do murder with Astrid’s face still dancing in his mind. 

Their bodies hit hard, and the collision took them both to the ground.  Grumpy had meant to run the creature through, but his sword appeared to have gone missing, so instead he pinned the fae down and used his fists.  Norco seemed shocked, unable to get his hands up in time to defend himself.  It was like no one had ever dared strike him physically, and Grumpy took advantage of the startled yelp to pummel the all-too-handsome angular face in.  One punch landed, and then another, and soon enough the fifth and sixth followed.  The sound of flesh breaking beneath his knuckles was music to Grumpy’s ears; it was the sound of revenge for Astrid, something to fill his broken heart. 

But the seventh only met thin air, and suddenly Grumpy overbalanced.  He’d been straddling Norco’s body, but now the fae was gone, and he landed face down in the mud before he could catch himself. 

Still no sword.  Leaping to his feet, Grumpy swung to face the fae.  Norco was bleeding from a split lip, busted nose, and a spectacular cut over one eye, but he was on his feet and laughing. 

“I’ll kill you,” Grumpy snarled. 

Norco only laughed harder.  “Was she your lover, then?  Unusual for a fairy, but I suppose even the fairies have whor—” 

Grumpy launched himself forward a second time, but this time Norco disappeared a moment before their bodies made contact, and the dwarf flailed for balance, his arms windmilling while he tried to catch himself.  He landed on his knees before he could lurch around to face the fae, who was behind him again.  The bastard. 

Bad enough that losing Astrid had ripped a hole in his heart that would never heal.  Listening to Norco insult her was enough to make him see red. 

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” Norco mocked him.  “I hate to tell you, dwarf, but fae are harder to kill than—oh, no you don’t.” 

Grumpy had thrown himself at the fae again—or tried to.  Instead, he found himself frozen in mid-air, snarling incoherently and trying desperately to reach the face that was mere inches from his fingers.  He couldn’t even _move_ those fingers, either; he was stuck, suspended, helpless.  Of course the bastard would use magic.  Intellectually, Grumpy knew that taking on a fae was suicide, but he could hardly care.  Astrid was gone, _dead_ , and nothing could bring her back.  Nothing could ever heal him, and he was starting to think that it was a good thing Norco was bound to kill him.  At least that would make the pain stop. 

And maybe then he’d see Astrid again. 

“I was going to kill you,” Norco told him with a laugh.  “But now I think I won’t.  Watching someone suffer after the loss of their True Love is just…too…sweet.”  A stunning smile lit up the fae’s bleeding face. “I think I’ll keep you.  I need a new pet.” 

The last thing Grumpy heard before magic sucked them both away was Mulan screaming his name in the distance.

 

****************

 

The two sorceresses faced off, standing inches away from one another and looking entirely too much like sisters.  Robin had no intention of getting in the middle of this—although he _did_ hold a squid ink-coated arrow nocked in his bow, just in case.  Maybe he’d spent too much time around Baelfire, but when Regina had asked him to come along on this insane expedition to parley with the Witch, Robin had known he’d need some sort of advantage.  He had every confidence that Regina could handle herself, but Zelena was known for cheating, and if she somehow overcame Regina, Robin planned on being ready. 

Somehow, he didn’t think this journey would work like their last trip into the castle, when Zelena had pretended to leave, only to call down a legion of flying monkeys on their heads.  Their little army had retreated then, much to Regina’s fury—Robin remembered having to practically drag her out of the castle that had been hers.  That had been the beginning of what could only be called a complicated relationship between himself and the Evil Queen, but vicious arguments and clever baiting had turned into something more somewhere along the way.  Regina was good woman, and although he’d never thought to love anyone after losing Marian, Robin often felt like she was his second half.  And she was so good with Roland, too.  

No, there was no way he was going to let some green-skinned harpy hurt Regina.  Not while he had any fight in him, and Robin was something of an expert on how to fight for what he believed in.  

“I don’t want anything from you,” Zelena snarled back.  “Or is this you crawling to your older sister for safety?  Are you afraid you’re going to lose the war?” 

Her face twisted up in a pout on the last line, and Robin resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  Regina, however, did not.  “I wouldn’t crawl to you if you were the _last_ person alive in the world,” she retorted. 

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” 

Magic was going to start flying any minute now; Robin readied his bow.  _I_ knew _this was going to be a horrible idea!_  

“Oh, shove it,” Regina somehow spat without trying to kill her half-sister.  Robin was impressed, knowing her as he did.  “Believe it or not, I’m here to help you out of the mess you’ve gotten yourself in.” 

“The mess _I’ve_ gotten myself in?  Oh, Regina, you don’t understand, do you?” Zelena replied, smiling hugely—but there was a nervous tick behind the grin that even Robin could detect.  “ _I_ am allied with the most powerful magic there has ever been.  _I_ am—” 

“A tool,” Regina cut her off. 

Zelena’s face screwed up in a snarl.  “Winning.” 

“Hardly.  I guess you didn’t get the memo, did you?” Robin’s lover mocked her sister right back.  “Your friend the Black Fairy showed up at my godson’s christening, and Rumplestiltskin chased her away.” 

It was a bit of an exaggeration, but who was the Wicked Witch of the West to know the difference?  Worry started stealing across her face. 

“Just let me shoot her, love,” Robin put in, just to see what might happen and to keep her off balance.  Of course, Zelena would be expecting him to do such a thing, particularly once he’s spoke up.  He could only hope she’d be showy enough to catch the arrow.  That is why he’d taken Baelfire’s advice, and hadn’t coated the tip.  _Even we non-magic folks can get the upper hand from time to time!_  

“Maybe later.”  Regina was back on balance, now, and those words came out in a dangerous purr.  Robin knew that he probably shouldn’t find her dark side quite so damn sexy, but Regina reached parts of him that he hadn’t known existed before her.  Not that Robin had exactly been the epitome of goodness himself—he’d chosen to be an _outlaw_ , after all—but Regina’s ‘evil’ was surprisingly appealing.  _Probably because I know there’s a good woman inside her, despite the mask she wears._  

Zelena, however, seemed uninterested in being _better._ “Don’t want to let your pet have all the fun?” 

This time, Robin did roll his eyes.  Really?  Had the woman never been in a healthy relationship before? 

“Don’t you get tired of throwing schoolyard insults at people?” Regina demanded.  “Believe it or not, I’m trying to help you.  I know how you feel.  I’ve been where you are.  And let me tell you the plain, unvarnished truth:  _vengeance will win you nothing._   Whatever you think is my fault, fine.  Take it out on me.  But taking out your pain on the rest of the world only makes you hurt more in the end.” 

“You know _nothing_ about me,” Zelena snarled in response. 

“Fine.  Then tell me.  Tell me all about how our mother abandoned you to a horrible fate.  Trust me, being raised by her _wasn’t_ exactly a walk in the park.  I _wish_ she’d abandoned me,” Regina replied, and Robin could hear years of pain echoing in her voice.  “But she didn’t, and eventually I learned.  She killed the man I loved, and I blamed someone else for that.  You know what that cost me?” 

Zelena shrugged as if she did not care, and yet she still asked sulkily: “What?” 

“Everything.  I thought revenge would fill the hole in my heart.  It didn’t.  I cursed our entire _world_ to get revenge, and all it did was make it hurt more.”  Regina drew herself up, and Robin had never been so proud of her as he was in that moment, as she faced her fears and her own horrid past.  “I used to _be_ you.  Quit while you’re ahead.” 

“And do what?”

“Take the deal I’m offering you.  Take safety and a chance to be, hell, be whatever you want to be, so long as it’s not working with the Black Fairy,” Regina said with a shrug.  “You don’t have to be our enemy.  Not when she’s going to try to use all of humanity as her new toybox.” 

Zelena’s chin came up again, but Robin saw a flicker of something in her eyes.  “What makes you think I don’t _want_ to be your enemy?”  

“Green skin or no, you’re still human,” Robin put in, lowering his bow slightly.  The gesture was symbolic; the difference in how fast he could shoot the Witch with the arrow pointed at her heart and with it pointed a few degrees lower was mere milliseconds, but it was the thought that counted.  “You might be a player now, but how long will it be before the fae decide that you make a better puppet than puppeteer?” 

She glared at him, and Robin shrugged. 

“Think about it,” he advised her in as friendly a fashion as he could manage.  After all, she _was_ Regina’s sister, and it didn’t do to burn bridges too early, even if she was a villain.  “They don’t need you nearly as much as you need them, and that’s _never_ a good position to be in.” 

“And you’re trying to say that you lot need me?” Zelena snorted.

Regina spoke up again: “Need?  No.  But we’re not overly picky—at the moment.  Don’t wait until you’ve done something so terrible that no one will ever accept you.” 

“Know that from experience, do you?” 

“Yes.  And it’s taken me a damn long time to get where I am.”  Again, Robin was impressed by how far Regina had come, even in the last year.  She really _was_ changing, and he felt a smile tugging on his face just looking at her.  “Think about it,” she told her older sister again.  “We’ll be back.  Or you can always come visit the Dark Castle.” 

There was definitely a hint of the old Evil Queen in that last smile, and it seemed to annoy Zelena to no end—but at least she’d listened.  Robin supposed that was all they could ask, though turning his back on the Witch to leave was damn hard.  Regina _probably_ had all kinds of magical defenses ready to go, but he still wasn’t confident that Zelena wouldn’t curse them while their backs were turned.  Despite his worries, however, the outlaw and the queen made it out of the passages without being attacked. 

“Do you think she actually listened?” he asked Regina when they were in the forest again. 

She shrugged.  “Why would I know?” 

“She _is_ your sister, love.” 

That earned him a scowl.  “By blood only.  I hardly know her.  All we’ve ever done is fight.” 

“Well, maybe this will give you the chance to do more,” Robin replied, squeezing her arm and waiting for Regina to deny that she wanted that.  Much to his surprise, Regina only gave him a tight smile, and they walked onwards in silence.

 

****************

 

Rumplestiltskin had dropped them at the base of the mountain, but magical wards kept him from taking them any further.  He stayed long enough to determine that the wards _could_ be forcibly removed, but that doing so would result in the Janus Stone being swept away to some unidentified location, which left Emma, Belle, Ruby, and Hook to continue up the winding mountain path alone.  The magical wards didn’t keep people from walking in—that was what the dozen or so booby traps were for—so Belle’s love departed to investigate more rumors of odd weather occurrences that had to be caused by fae magic.  Personally, Emma was more concerned with the tales of suddenly rotting food supplies that plagued several distant towns, but Rumplestiltskin was predictably more interested in acts of greater magic.  Still, he’d promised to send someone to check that out, which she supposed was the best they could expect out of the former Dark One. 

Four days later, Hook led them around a hidden pit full of stakes while Ruby kept Belle from stepping into something nasty while her nose was in a book.  None of them had been sure exactly what to expect up here on Fionn Mountain, but it hadn’t been this.  So far, Belle’s quick reading—and clever memory—had saved them no less than five times, and Emma was really glad she’d decided to bring the bookworm along.  Belle was surprisingly decent in a fight, too, as they’d all found out in their scrap with a group of shaggy hill tribesmen the previous day, but her real value laid in the encyclopedia she seemed to carry around in her head.  That, and the half dozen books she’d brought along. 

“There should be a cave up ahead,” Belle said as Ruby steered her around a fallen tree, never even looking up from the page she was reading.  “It’s not the one we want, but we can shelter there for the night.” 

“How do you know it’s not the right one?” Hook asked dubiously. 

Belle glanced up long enough to give him an exasperated look.  “Because anyone who hides anything on Fionn Mountain is obviously going to put it in the King’s Cave.” 

“The what?” Emma found herself echoing. 

“The King’s Cave.  It’s the highest cave on the mountain”—Belle pointed upwards—“along the southern path.  That’s the one we’re on.  Haven’t you ever heard of the legend of the King in the Mountain?” 

“Wasn’t born here, sorry.” 

“I have,” Ruby spoke up. “Isn’t that the one with a sleeping king who was foretold to come down and save his people?” 

“Yes.”  Belle beamed.  “Of course, that already happened centuries ago, but the cave is still there.  It’s a very magical place, one that can only be entered by the well-meaning.  Human magic isn’t actually supposed to work inside, though it might now.  Centuries have passed, after all.” 

That made Emma frown.  “Then why put the Janus Stone inside it?” 

The map Rumplestiltskin had given David indicated that the stone was here, but even when you zoomed it in as far as the map would go, it was hard to tell exactly _where_ on a mountain a small stone was located.  Emma had the map rolled up in her pack, of course, but so far it had proven far less helpful than Belle’s books had.  Still, after four days of mountain climbing, Emma was really starting to wish that the Wicked Witch hadn’t felt the need to move the damn stone.  Everything would have been so much easier if they’d only had to assault her castle to get it back. 

“Because the Janus Stone isn’t _human_ magic, of course,” Belle replied easily. 

“And because it gives you an entire mountain to booby trap,” Hook added, scowling.  “That makes what, now?  Fourteen?” 

“Fifteen,” Ruby replied.  “You’re forgetting that half-lion, half-pig thing I ate.” 

“Right.  I’d rather not think about that one, thanks.  Or you eating it.” 

The werewolf only grinned.  Emma hadn’t known that Ruby could turn into a wolf during the entire ‘cycle’ of the full moon, or that she had the ability to do so pretty much at will, but the wolf had been very useful when odd creatures attacked them and Ruby dropped her bright red cloak.  Emma had considered her little stone-hunting party rather mismatched when they’d set out, but now she was starting to think that there was a method to her madness after all.  They were even getting along well. 

“Okay,” she cut into the banter.  “Let’s find that cave and quit for the night.  It’s getting dark, and the last thing we want is to find another booby trap by falling into it.” 

Yeah, she’d done that yesterday while leading the way up the mountain, leaving Hook to pull her out after almost following her into a sinkhole.  Emma hadn’t enjoyed that experience one bit, and she was all for getting inside a cave before something else crazy could happen today.  Not that she trusted the night to stay quiet.  These things never did.

 

****************

 

Tink flew in on time to see the Gliss and Glimmer Fairies both collapse.  She’d heard her friends’ magical cry for help while on her way to join Emma’s party on Fionn Mountain, and had hoped the detour would be quick.  What she found was two dead fairies and one live fae—and barely got her wand up in time to block what would have been a killing blow of magic. 

Tink didn’t need magic to know that her two oldest friends were dead.  She’d hardly seen them since returning from Neverland, barely had time to reunite with _anyone_ since her wings had been restored, but now she’d never have the chance.  Grief welled up within her, turning quickly to rage, and when the fae attacked her again, Tink was ready with an attack of her own.  Turning the chestnut-haired woman’s spell inside out, she shot it back at her opponent and was pleased to watch it hit.  Hard.  _Serves you right,_ she thought viciously, landing lightly a dozen feet away from the fae woman.  She wondered if this fae had anything to do with Astrid’s death.  Astrid had been such a sweet girl, and deserved so much better. 

“I’m sorry,” she said sarcastically.  “Were you counting on an easy target?” 

The fae woman snarled.  “I’ll kill you anyway, green fairy.” 

“My name is Tinker Bell,” she shot back with a scowl.  “Green’s just my color.” 

“Oh, how sweet.  You’re the independent one, the one that likes _humans._ ”  Burgundy robes swirled around her, and she shot another curse Tink’s way. 

But Tink was ready, and the magic bounced aside harmlessly.  She’d learned a few decidedly non-fairy tricks in Neverland, and Tink wasn’t about to let some fae get the upper hand.  Or distract her with petty insults. 

“I’m the one who is loyal to my friends, yeah,” she retorted.  “Probably a funny concept to someone like you.” 

“Vara,” was the answering hiss. 

“Excuse me?”  Hairs stood up on the back of her neck.  Tink couldn’t think of a spell using that word, not even in oddest of magic languages. 

The fae smiled ethereally.  “You should know the name of the one who kills you.”

 

****************

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay before posting this chapter – I started having continuity issues when I worked on the next few chapters, and had to go back to this one to straighten things out before posting. As a note—the next few chapters happen more or less simultaneously. 
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 26: “Two for One”, in which Tink finds more trouble, Emma’s group runs obstacles they didn’t expect, and Rumplestiltskin meets one of the Black Fairy’s favorites.


	27. Two For One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 26-29 happen in very quick succession - the group of chapters happen over about a half a day.

**_Chapter Twenty-Six—“Two for One”_ **

 

Tink had never killed before, but found doing so surprisingly easy when it came down to her life or that of a fae who had already killed two of her oldest friends.  Still, a monster case of the shakes hit her when she stopped to take a deep breath, looking down at Gliss’ and Glimmer’s bodies and that of the fae who had called herself Vara.  Staggering over to where her friends lay, Tink checked again to make sure they were dead, hoping against hope that she was wrong. 

She wasn’t.  

Gulping back the need to vomit, Tink sank to the ground and tried to make herself consider her options.  Gliss and Glimmer acted as the patron fairies for the town of Nottingham—although neither had been the particularly attentive sort, which explained how various villains continually got away with abusing the people who lived in the town and the nearby forest.  Still, they’d obviously come here for a reason; Tink and the three bodies were barely on the outskirts of town, and she could see people milling about in the distance.  Obviously, none of the more sensible residents wanted to get involved in a fight between fairies, and they were rather studiously looking anywhere but at Tink. 

Everyone except the thoroughly obnoxious sheriff that she remembered from her short stay in Storybrooke.  _He_ was stalking towards her like this was all somehow her fault, and Tink levered herself to her feet unsteadily to meet him.  She still wanted to throw up, and could hardly bear to look at the bodies of Gliss and Glimmer—but they weren’t the first friends she’d lost, or the first corpses she’d seen.  They were at war, and Tink had been up to her neck in the mess since the beginning.  She’d also spent long enough in Neverland, dodging Pan’s sick games, to have seen plenty of dead Lost Boys.  This, at least, was a war worth fighting.  She didn’t regret her choice to help the Grand Alliance, and she wasn’t about to start cowering now. 

“What is the meaning of this?” the Sheriff of Nottingham demanded, as if he couldn’t tell what had happened.  Or maybe he couldn’t.  Tink could smell the alcohol on his breath from fifteen feet away. 

_Why did we liberate Nottingham again?  Oh, yes.  Because Sherwood Forest is practically on the Dark Castle’s doorstep, and the people of this town have been willing to fight with us from moment one._ Except for the Sheriff, of course.  He’d run home almost as soon as Nottingham had been liberated, claiming that _his people_ needed guidance and protection.  From him, of course. 

Tink snorted out loud at the thought.  “What do you think happened?” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.  “Two good people are dead, trying to protect _your_ town from a fae.  Now why don’t you get lost and let me deal with it?” 

“Why don’t _you_ help where you’re needed instead of standing around?” he slurred instead of buggering off like she wished he would. 

“Huh?” Wasn’t that what she’d just done? 

Drunk or not, he managed an impressive sneer.  “There’s another one of those _creatures_ stealing babies.  Four of them so far.  He’s stacking them up like merchandise at the fair.” 

“He’s _what_?” the words rushed out of Tink in surprise, but then she waved off his response, stalking forward despite the growing feeling of dread in her stomach.  “Show me where.” 

She was exhausted, running out of fairy dust, and was mourning the death of two friends, but Tink _couldn’t_ let some fae take innocent children.  There wasn’t time to think about how the male fae tended to be more powerful than the females, either.  Male fairies had been very rare in the beginning, and _all_ of those who survived the initial wars over magic had chosen to follow the Black Fairy.  Still, Tink was powerful in her own right, and she’d spent the last few months doing something no pure fairy had done since before the split—learning _human_ magic to add to her own normal powers.  Regina was a good teacher, and although Tink wasn’t a sorceress on her friend’s level yet, she was still pretty good. 

Magic it would have to be, then.  But she didn’t put her wand away as she followed the Sheriff.  Let this fae think that she could only use a wand and fairy dust.   Tink would take every advantage she could get. 

 

****************

 

“I _hate_ flying monkeys,” Emma snarled, resisting the urge to fling her sword against the cave wall in frustration.  Doing so had to be bad for the metal, and the last thing that she needed to do was to do break a weapon they needed.  Ruby had already managed to shatter one sword in a monkey’s surprisingly hard skull—she was _far_ stronger than Emma had ever given her credit for—and they were down to only four swords, now, which was just enough. 

Thankfully, Hook had for some reason decided to bring an extra, which was an odd habit coming from a man with only one working hand and a weapon attached to the other.  Still, the pirate had only grinned and said that old habits died hard, and he’d been in more than a few sticky situations.  

“I could do without them, yes,” Belle replied from her right, finishing bandaging up Ruby’s bitten left arm.  

“A little help over here, love?” Hook gestured at the cut in his own left side, where there was a wound that was perfectly placed for him to never be able to reach it on his own. 

Belle scowled at him.  “I’m not your ‘love’, Hook.  Don’t call me that.  And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you _shot_ me, among other things.  I’m not your friend, even if we are on the same side.  So feel free to keep your eyes on my face and off my chest.” 

“Ouch,” Emma couldn’t stop herself from muttering.  Killian Jones might be her friend, but he probably deserved a bit of a tongue lashing from Belle, given what he’d done. Emma still remembered calling him _dead guy of the year_ after the incident at the town line, and there were times she was still surprised that Gold hadn’t killed him yet. 

“Will it help if I apologize?” Hook asked, sounding reasonably contrite.  For him.  “I’m not the man I was then.” 

“You’d better not be,” Belle warned him, still not looking like she planned on taking any crap from him.  Still, Emma hoped that she was willing to give Hook a chance.  He might still style himself a pirate, but he really had changed…at least some.  The saucy grin he was shooting at Belle indicated that he hadn’t _completely_ lost his flirtatious edge. 

_Suppose I didn’t break his heart too badly after all,_ Emma reflected.  Then again, knowing Hook, it could just be a self-defense mechanism.  It’s not like he actually thought he was going to steal _another_ woman from Rumplestiltskin, did he?  Emma knew he was smarter than this. 

Despite Hook’s attitude, Belle patched up his side—a good thing, since Emma was no use when it came to medicine.  She was pretty much limited to Band-Aids and Neosporin, herself, but Belle seemed to know what to do with a salve, water, and some bandages.  Hook grimaced as she worked, looking thoroughly miserable with the wound, but Belle only shushed him and—making Emma giggle—told the pirate not to be a baby.  Hook looked wounded, but seemed to find the humor in the situation, at least a little.  Ruby would undoubtedly have found it funny, too, had she not been acting as lookout.  Her enhanced sense of smell and hearing made the wolf girl ideal for the role; she’d already provided live saving warnings more than once on this journey.  The monkeys the group hadn’t killed had retreated, but there was no way of knowing what else might be coming next.  So far, they’d run afoul of monkeys, shaggy and smelly tribesmen, a trio of goblins, and a really irate chimera.  Anything could happen. 

“You think we’re good to continue up the mountain?” she asked Belle, who shrugged as she rose from Hook’s side. 

“Probably as good a time as any,” she answered.  “Either we’re going to the booby traps, or they’re coming to us.” 

“Okay, then, campers.  Let’s get moving,” Emma told the others decisively, stepping out of the cave and into the crisp morning air.  Hook, however, was apparently not finished. 

“I do apologize,” he said sincerely, still talking to Belle as they started walking.  “I was consumed by revenge…and not myself.  I don’t expect you’ll forgive me, but…well, the apology is long overdue despite that.  So I apologize, for whatever it is worth.” 

“I accept your apology,” Belle replied, much to Emma’s surprise.  “I’m not saying that I will ever forget what you did, but I do understand that people can change.  So long as you mean it, anyway.” 

“I do,” Hook said, glancing at the ground as they walked. “More than you can ever know.” 

Belle nodded.  “Good.  Then we’re clear.” 

How _could_ a woman that purely good stick with Gold for so long?  Emma supposed that she might find out the details of it before too long, given that Belle was practically Neal’s stepmother and all.  _This world is so damn weird._   Hook nodded in response to Belle’s answer, obviously smart enough to think that was the best he was going to get.  He glanced Emma’s way, his expression unreadable, but the look did make her wonder. 

Emma really, _really_ hoped that Hook wasn’t doing this for her benefit. 

“So, what’s next?” she asked Belle as they detoured around a big ditch, complete with sharpened stakes on the bottom. 

“We should reach the King’s Cave well before nightfall.  If Rumple’s map is right”—she had the map in her hands now, instead of a book—“we don’t have that much further to go.  Barring any more attacks by flying monkeys, we should be able to make pretty good time.” 

“Is it just me, or did those monkeys seem to retreat awfully quickly?” Ruby asked, pausing to sniff the air. 

“And here I was thinking our brave defense frightened them off,” Emma groused drily.  

“I was hoping that we’d be luckier than that,” Hook muttered. 

“Not a chance,” Ruby replied, drawing her sword.  “Something’s coming.” 

“Let’s find cover,” Belle said sensibly, and they dove for the trees just as another dozen monkeys appeared.

 

****************

 

“Oh, oh, oh, what have we here? Another fairy come to die today?” 

Tink froze as the slender male figure turned towards her, feeling dark magic sweeping around the town square.  The fae had a collection of a dozen children now, ranging from infants to a pair of very frightened ten year olds.  They’d been pinned into a magical cage of sorts, grouped together with no thought for their comfort.  Some were crying, and a few others appeared to be unconscious.  But that wasn’t what worried Tink the most.  No, it was the dark magic rippling outwards from the male fae that terrified her.  _He matches the description of the one Grumpy said killed Astrid,_ Tink realized with a start.  

“Norco,” she ground out, her mind on Astrid.  _That’s three friends that need avenging._   Tink swallowed hard.  Grumpy was still missing.  Did that make four friends she needed to mourn? 

“Ah, you’ve heard of me,” Norco purred, his angular face creased by a smile.  He really was quite handsome, in a terrifying sort of way, but Tink knew magic when she saw it.  And this—this was dark magic, thick and powerful, darker than anything she’d ever felt before.  Only Pan had been this potently evil; even her exposure to Rumplestiltskin as the Dark One hadn’t been like this. 

“Nothing good,” Tink snapped back.  “But you probably think of that as a compliment.” 

“Oh, I do.”

Her hand was sweaty on her wand, but at least she could hold it steady.  “Leave now,” Tink ordered the fae. 

“But I’m just getting started.  And my friends are so eager to meet you.”  Norco grinned viciously, and even though Tink knew it was probably a distraction, she wheeled around when his gaze fastened on something just past her right shoulder. 

It wasn’t a trick. 

The spot where the Sheriff had been standing was now occupied by a pair of fae, both female and smiling.  One of them looked terribly similar to the woman Tink had killed earlier, and both had their hands up already, with magic swirling between them.  This was darkness, too, prickly and dangerous, ready to take her down the way it had Nottingham’s sheriff—but Tink had a feeling that they meant to do a lot worse to her than knock her unconscious.  _It was a trap all along._   They hadn’t needed to use the drunk so-called lawman, however; he’d probably been easy to play. 

_So was I._  

Tink’s heart hammered in her chest.  The fae had made a sport of killing fairies back in the original wars…and she was their newest target.  Long years of training made her contemplate calling for Blue, but they still didn’t know what side the senior fairy was going to take—and she’d never make it there in time.  If Blue even wanted to, and Tink wasn’t sure the senior fairy would mourn her death, even if she had given her wings back to her.  That meant she only had one choice. 

“Rumplestiltskin,” Tink breathed quietly, infusing her desperate fear into the whisper.  She knew she didn’t need to shout…but if she did, would he get there more quickly?  The loud pounding in her ears had to be her heart, but she still had to check to make sure it wasn’t some sort of horrid spell.  Just to be sure. 

“Calling for help already?” one of the female fae mocked her.  “Perhaps you’re smarter than most fairies.” 

“More stubborn, too,” she shot back, retreating a few steps so that she could keep all three fae in her sights.  They were still working magic, but nothing aimed at her.  Not yet. No, they were concentrating on setting a trap— _No.  I’m stupider than_ I _thought._ The fae were setting a trap.  Of _course_ they were.  And Tink had just helped them spring it. 

There was no way to un-call his name, though, so all she could do was hope that Rumplestiltskin really did have Merlin’s powers. Otherwise, they were both screwed. 

“And here I was thinking that I would have to pull this out to get his attention,” Norco said with a smirk, pulling a wavy kris dagger out of seemingly thin air.  There was no name on it, not anymore, but Tink still recognized it.  All fairies knew what the Dark One’s dagger looked like, after all, and Tink’s heart sank. 

“You didn’t have to, dearie, but it certainly doesn’t hurt,” a new voice answered him, and suddenly Rumplestiltskin was standing to Tink’s right. 

Never once had she imagined fighting side by side with the former Dark One, but magic started flying almost immediately, and Tink was damn glad for his presence.  Faced with three fae, she would have been dead within minutes without help—and damn it if the man didn’t know magic better than any human she’d ever heard of.  The fae might have wanted to trap him, but they definitely hadn’t expected him to be like this.  Tink had seen a hundred humans work magic, but she’d never seen anything like what Rumplestiltskin was doing now. 

Now if only they could live through the next few minutes, everything would be grand.

 

****************

 

The letter arrived at the Dark Castle five days after Regina had paid her sister a visit, written, of course, in brilliant green ink and delivered by a flying monkey.  It was short and to the point. 

_Sister—_

_I appreciate your kind_ _offer, but I would sooner die than come crawling to you.  I will destroy you._

_Zelena_  

“Well, I guess that tells us how she feels,” Regina spat, throwing the letter down on the desk in front of her stepdaughter.  She rolled her eyes.  “So much for familial obligations.” 

Snow reached out to squeeze her hand gently, and much to Regina’s own surprise, she didn’t pull free right away.  “You tried, Regina.” 

“I shouldn’t have bothered.  It was a waste of time, and we _knew_ she’d say no.  Even Rumplestiltskin didn’t expect her to say yes.  She’s crazy.” 

“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” Snow replied compassionately, and Regina glared. 

“I’m not,” she snapped, but there wasn’t as much anger in the response as she wanted there to be.  _What did I ever do to her?_   Regina had asked her older (half) sister that once, only to be told that she’d been born, an answer that made no sense at all.  Sure, Zelena had been abandoned and had a right to be angry, but why be angry with Regina?  It seemed utterly ridiculous for Zelena to blame her for something that had happened before Regina’s parents had even met.  Hell, Regina _agreed_ with her that Cora had been a monster!  Given the chance, she would gladly have swapped places with her sister, no matter what kind of foster family Zelena had been raised by.  Getting away from Cora would have been worth it— 

Except then she would never have known her daddy, and Henry would never have been her son.  Those two things made the hell of her childhood worth any price, and Regina wouldn’t trade that for anything.  

Regina swallowed, turning away from Snow to hide her own disappointment behind a scowl.  _I’d always wanted a sister,_ she thought to herself, staring out the window.  Would it have been so bad for Zelena to bend a little, to forget her hatred?  Regina knew from experience how hard that was, but if she could stand here in the Dark Castle with Snow White, it would have been possible for Zelena to give up on her vengeful quest, too.  Not now, though.  Zelena had made her choices.

 

****************

 

“Where were you when I needed a maniac berserker against Anne Bonny?” Hook asked Ruby as the werewolf stood over a stack of at least eight dead flying monkeys.  

“Waiting tables,” she retorted with a shrug, exchanging a grin with Belle.  For her part, Belle only rolled her eyes—Hook really didn’t get it, did he?  Emma had turned him down, and he was still sending sorrowful looks her way from time to time, but when he wasn’t pining for the Savior, he was flirting with anything remotely female shaped.  Including Belle, who was probably as off limits as anyone was possible to be, at least as far as Hook should be concerned. 

“What a waste,” the pirate replied with a saucy grin.  

“My patrons didn’t think so,” Ruby shot back, meeting his gaze squarely and then…winking.  Belle resisted the urge to roll her eyes a second time.  Ruby was _playing_ with Hook, and though she was sure that her friend knew exactly what she was doing, she also knew that Ruby was more than a little miffed on Belle’s behalf. 

“I bet they didn’t.”  Hook wagged his eyebrows suggestively.  “Perhaps you’d like to give me a demonstration…?” 

“Oh, give me a break,” Ruby replied without rancor.  “Now that these suckers are dead, can we get on with getting up to the cave where the Janus Stone is supposed to be?” 

“I’m not sure they’re all dead,” Emma said cautiously, poking a still-twitching monkey with her sword.  

“Then let’s not stick around and find out,” Belle suggested, pulling the map out of where she’d stuffed it down the front of her tunic.  It was big enough to be a rather snug fit, but she didn’t exactly have a lot of choices when the fight kicked off.  “We don’t have much further to go.” 

“Thank God,” Emma muttered, stepping up next to Hook and elbowing him in a friendly fashion.  “C’mon.  Quit your flirting and let’s get a move on.” 

“I’m not—” 

“You’re breathing.  I get it,” the Savior replied with a smile.  

At least _she_ seemed to find it funny, Belle reflected, but then maybe she was just biased.  After all, her first ever meeting with Hook had been him attacking her in the library, quickly followed by him trying to kill her on his ship, and then him shooting her.  Belle had tried very hard to avoid Hook when they’d all been closeted in the Dark Castle during the early days of the war, and fortunately the pirate had headed off to his own adventures for most of the year before he was sent to fetch Emma.  Belle had meant it when she’d accepted his apology, but that didn’t mean she trusted him. 

“Well, we all have our strengths,” Hook replied with a shrug.  

“And some of us are crazier than others,” Ruby muttered to Belle, and they exchanged smiles.  

But there wasn’t much time to joke the pair followed Emma and Hook around a bend and suddenly there was a solid wall of rock in front of them, stretching at least thirty feet straight upwards.  Emma stopped cold and glanced back at Belle, her expression one that screamed _You’ve got to be kidding me_. 

“Let me guess that this is the only way to the cave,” Emma said with a groan. 

Glancing down at the map, Belle sighed, too.  Topography on the map wasn’t terribly well defined—although zooming in on an area could make it reasonably clear, the map had been made by magic and not a cartographer.  Even Rumplestiltskin’s magic wasn’t infallible, and Fionn Mountain wasn’t one of the areas he’d focused on when making the map.  Back then, this mountain had been completely unimportant.  Now it sheltered one of the most magical items in creation, one they needed in order to stop the war that raged over the entirety of the Enchanted Forest. 

Belle looked up again, staring at the sheer rock wall, and then looked down again.  “You’re gonna hate this,” she told Ruby before turning back to Emma.  “Yeah.  We have to climb.” 

“I hate heights,” Ruby grumbled, but then Belle had already known that about her. 

“You think you hate climbing, darling,” Hook piped up.  “Try doing it one-handed.  And one-hooked.” 

Ruby just snarled and pulled a rope out of her pack.  “Let’s get this over with.”

 

****************

 

Merlin had known Norco, Rumplestiltskin realized, and had not liked him one bit.  Hard-edged and almost as old as the Black Fairy herself, Norco had been one of the first to follow her—and had always stood as one of her most loyal adherents.  _Loyal to the point of insanity,_ Merlin had told Danns long ago, standing with her on the edge of a cliff while they watched Norco lead a slaughter of humans who had come to steal fae power.  _He does what is necessary, but acts in unnecessary ways,_ the old sorcerer had argued, even back then.  What he had seen of Norco in the following war only further soured him towards the senior fae. 

Norco was a psychopath, plain and simple, Rumplestiltskin realized.  He recognized the signs well enough, could see the pleasure with which Norco tormented those with less power than he possessed.  _Given what he is, that’s just about everyone._   Unbidden, a memory of a previous Dark One—Koschei, sixth after Merlin and the last to serve the Black Fairy before her exile—came to mind.  Koschei had attempted to break with the Black Fairy and had found himself on the receiving end of Norco’s vengeance…only to discover that all the power of the Dark One’s curse could not match him.  Koschei had been more knowledgeable than most of the later hosts for the curse, but Norco had crushed him easily. 

And Norco had _enjoyed_ it, had loved every moment he was able to hurt someone.  The Black Fairy had let him toy with Koschei for months before she’d intervened, too, and Norco had reveled in causing pain.  Just like he was now. 

Tink was screaming, wreathed in dark magic of the likes Rumplestiltskin had never seen before.  He had made the mistake of dealing with the two younger fae first, since Merlin’s memories of Norco had yet to bubble to the surface, but the moment that nasty spell reached out for Tinker Bell, Rumplestiltskin knew that he’d been a fool.  He’d meant to leave Norco for last, partially since the fae seemed eager to face him—why else would he have the dagger of the Dark One in his hand if not as bait?  Rumplestiltskin didn’t _need_ the dagger, not anymore, but he still had no intention of leaving an object of such power in the fae’s hands.  But he’d not wanted to walk into Norco’s trap, either, which was why he’d dealt with the other two fae first—which turned out to be a mistake. 

Wheeling around to face Norco, Rumplestiltskin reached deep into the ocean of power and acted on instinct, flinging magic over his shoulder at the stumbling pair of female fae and sending them flying backwards.  A second wave of power hammered down, rending them limb from limb and shredding internal organs.  It was as pure of dark magic as anything Norco had used on Tink, but Rumplestiltskin was not playing any games.  Both fae died, gurgling up blood.  This was a war, and there was no time to be nice.  He’d never had a problem killing fairies, and despite what the fae called themselves, genetically they were identical to his longtime enemies. 

Wind tore out of that vast well of power as Rumplestiltskin’s hands shot out, a whirlwind of darkness spiraling through the air towards Norco.  Unable to hold Tink within the claws of his magic and defend himself at the same time, the fae threw up a hasty shield and dodged right, but the whirlwind tracked him.  Rumplestiltskin watched it emotionlessly, feeling like lightning was sparking in his fingertips.  He had never encountered power like this before, not even in his wildest dreams or nightmares.  Even facing down the Black Fairy, feeling Merlin’s magic race through his body, had not been like this.  That had been civilized.  _This_ was war. 

“Get out of the way,” he told Tinker Bell, standing loosely and ready for anything.  “I’ll deal with the fae.” 

“I’ve heard that before, _Merlin_ ,” Norco spat, rolling to his feet, eyes narrowed and power emulating from him like a toxic cloud.  Rumplestiltskin could actually _see_ the fae’s fury, could feel it in his bones.  It was almost a tangible presence, and emotion had always made for the strongest of magic. 

“I bet you have,” he replied easily, flinging power at the fae, pure and direct, and watching it sweep Norco off his feet. 

However, Norco hit back almost as hard.  Even as Tink threw herself aside, the ground around Rumplestiltskin reared up as if to swallow him, dirt and grass forming a thick tornado seeking to suck him away.  Small shards of stone started pelting him as Rumplestiltskin snarled in fury, but he didn’t want to waste energy, power, or concentration on defending himself against _rocks_.  Instead, he ignored the tornado and struck back, forming power into a metaphorical hammer.  He brought it crashing down towards Norco as the fae dodged.  The edge of the hammer hit, despite Norco’s quick reflexes, sending the slender fae sailing through the air—only for him to disappear in mid-flight and land on his feet off to Rumplestiltskin’s right. 

Meanwhile, the tornado closed the distance and its winds intensified.  Had he been wearing one of his old suits, the cloth would have been torn to shreds, but leather and dragonhide held. Seeing through the maelstrom was growing difficult and the air around him was thick with— _Damn._ That was dark fairy dust mixed in with the muck.  Norco was clever. 

Rumplestiltskin vanished and reappeared ten feet behind the fae, fire glowing in his hands and shooting out to engulf his opponent.  Normally, he despised close quarters combat against an enemy like this, but Norco might just be powerful enough that he had no choice.  Memories whipped through his mind as Norco extinguished the flames.  The fae disappeared again and Rumplestiltskin barely managed to dodge before Norco appeared just inches away from his right side, sunlight glinting off of Circe’s dagger, _his_ old dagger, as he brought it flashing down. 

Throwing himself aside physically—there wasn’t time for magic—Rumplestiltskin felt the blade bite into his side, scraping painfully along the bottom edge of his ribcage.  Fire immediately raced through his veins and he screamed, feeling the remnants of his old curse stirring both within the dagger and within himself.  The dagger could still kill him—like Excalibur, it was a secondary power and one of the very few items that could slay an original power.  And it could _hurt._ Blood oozed outwards from the wound, and acid boiled through his veins.  Rumplestiltskin did not need to look at the cut to know that black spider webs of destructive magic were growing outwards from the wound.  Norco hadn’t poisoned the blade, either.  The dagger itself _was_ poison, at least to a man who had been the Dark One.  Trying not to scream or double over in pain, Rumplestiltskin’s vision swam wildly, the vortex of briefly agony making his vision go white.  

_Focus!_ he told himself, blindly blocking a wave of magic meant to knock him unconscious.  With an effort, he suppressed the old surge of fear he felt seeing that dagger in someone else’s hands.  His heart no longer need skip a beat from seeing _his_ blood on the curved blade.  The dagger would never control him again.  Still, Rumplestiltskin had no intention of leaving such a weapon in Norco’s hands. 

_She can summon it,_ a memory told him unbidden.  That was how the Black Fairy had always controlled her most powerful servant.  No matter who held the dagger, it always answered her call. 

“Look out!” Tink shouted, and this time Rumplestiltskin had the required moment to teleport clear of the dagger-wielding fae.  

Opening the distance between them bought him precious seconds to make his vision clear.  Tink was on her feet again, unsteady and clearly in pain, but the determination on the young fairy’s face was plain. 

He was grateful for the warning, but she was only in the way. 

“Get those children out of here,” Rumplestiltskin snapped at her, turning to watch as Norco started to laugh—amusement that Rumplestiltskin cut off with a rain of acidic magic the fae had to dodge. 

His side was burning wildly. 

“Are you sure?” Tink asked uneasily. 

“Yes,” he replied tightly, reaching again into the ocean of power that was now his own.  Rumplestiltskin still wasn’t practiced enough with this power, still wasn’t used to being able to dig so deep.  But now he would have to be. 

A flick of his fingers later, and Norco’s still snarling tornado of topsoil and stone collapsed.  Bits of rock and clumps of grass sprayed the children, but they were mostly shielded by Tink as she meticulously dismantled the magical cage surrounding them.  A few bystanders yelped and dodged, but if the fools wanted to be so close to a magical battle, this was their own stupid fault. 

“Impressive,” Norco sang out, completely ignoring Tink.  The children had obviously only ever been meant as bait, as a distraction.  _Much like Zelena._   The fae did so love their games.  “But is it good enough, or will you end today back in my Lady’s hands?” 

“You don’t know me very well if you’re even asking that question, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin retorted, firing off a wave of power that would have killed the average fae. 

Norco shrugged it off easily, but Rumplestiltskin smiled.  A second spell lay underneath the first, sneaky and— 

“Oh, but I _know_ you, Rumplestiltskin,” the fae purred, toying with the blood-coated dagger.  The vicious hunger in his eyes brought Rumplestiltskin back to _hands and pain and_ screaming. _Norco’s voice and—_  

No.  Not now.  He remembered Norco too well, but _now_ Rumplestiltskin could fight back. 

Wind started picking up again, and the sky started to darken as Norco grinned.  Storm clouds rushed into existence overhead, and freezing rain started pelting down.  Each drop turned into razor sharp needles of ice, and the bystanders started screaming.  The ice was almost acidic, burning cold.  It easily melted through cloth, seeking bare skin and leaving red welts in its wake.  A few drops found Rumplestiltskin’s hands and face, and had he not been so focused, he would probably have flinched wildly away from the pain.  Still, he was better off than most; leather resisted melting, and his magic protected him more than it did not, even as the wind howled loudly enough to drown out the cries of pain. 

Weather magic had always been a fae specialty, but Rumplestiltskin hijacked it.  With his other spell still growing in the background, his hands came up and he claimed control of the storm.  Cutting off the thread causing the freezing rain, he then closed his fists and brought his hands whipping down.  Magic ripped through his veins like sweet electricity, and a pair of lightning bolts crashed out of the clouds.  _You really shouldn’t have given me such a powerful storm to play with, sunshine._  

The ground under their feet shook, and Norco tried to dodge.  But Rumplestiltskin smiled and the lighting tracked the fae unerringly, striking Norco in the chest and hammering him into the dirt with a dull thud.  His fingers popped open as he hit the ground hard, freeing the bloody dagger to bounce away from the fae.  Rumplestiltskin had been waiting for that moment; he would never have been able to summon the dagger out of someone else’s hand, out of their control.  He never had been able to.  But once Norco lost control of it, the Dark One’s dagger became fair game. 

Immediately, the dagger sailed into Rumplestiltskin’s left hand, coming home like an old friend.  Shivering slightly—and feeling his side burn all the more—he closed his fingers around the grip.  It was colder than he remembered, heavy with darkness from the curse and the demon now living inside it, but the dagger was still _his_.  A corner of his soul would always feel a connection, no matter how broken his curse was. 

Stepping forward, Rumplestiltskin watched as Norco tried to rise, and then brought another pair of lightning bolts down upon him with a flick of his right wrist.  Finally, the fae howled in pain and frustration, and as Norco’s concentration slipped, Rumplestiltskin’s waiting spell pounced.  It froze the fae into place, temporarily paralyzing him—and Rumplestiltskin poured power into the slight gap in Norco’s defenses, overcoming his attempts to strike back and driving a wedge between Norco and his magic.  Norco was at least a thousand years older than he was and extremely well versed in fairy, fae, and human magic, but all it took was one tiny slip.  A slip he had made. 

Eyes wide in fear and shock, Norco stared up at Rumplestiltskin when he stepped up to loom over him.  Power arched between them, actually visible to the non-magical eye as the storm retreated, reflecting sunlight almost like a multi-stranded mirror made of liquid.  A soft hum filled the air; original power or not, even Rumplestiltskin had to work to keep a millennia and a half old fae isolated from power.  A momentary headache reared up from the strain, pounding and savage enough to make Rumplestiltskin’s vision swim again.  _Human body, human limitations,_ he reminded himself, remembering passing out in his castle’s courtyard.  And yet—unbidden, his magic raced up to meet the pain, moving faster than Rumplestiltskin could react.  And then the headache vanished as a strange chill ran down his spine.  Rumplestiltskin felt _power_ settling deeper within him than ever before.  Suddenly, restraining Norco was just a little easier. 

His side was still burning with poisonous pain, still bleeding.  But there was nothing he’d ever been able to do about that. 

“Kill me,” the fae panted, still fighting to free his magic.  He was starting to break loose from the physical paralysis, so Rumplestiltskin held out a hand, palm down. 

Norco froze. 

“No.”  The word came out almost before Rumplestiltskin consciously changed his mind, but the smile was all him, crafty and nasty.  _Not Merlin_.  “I don’t think I will.” 

_“What?”_  

“You’re going to deliver a message to Danns' a'Bhàis for me,” he told Norco instead, his voice ice cold.  “You’re going to tell her not to harm those under my protection, lest she make an enemy out of her ‘old friend’.” 

Norco scoffed.  “You can’t protect them all.” 

“But I don’t need to.”  Who _could_ defend all of humanity?  Merlin had never managed.  Rumplestiltskin didn’t care to.  Now his smile grew slow and dangerous.  “Tell Danns that though I make a very bad enemy, I make a much better friend.” 

“She already knows what you are, Merlin.” 

Interesting how Norco swapped between what he called him. Did he, too, believe that Merlin was in control?  If so, he clearly thought what little remained of Rumplestiltskin was merely the broken and frightened man he’d been in Bremen.  Between them, Norco and Danns had made certain that there were scars on his psyche that would never heal, pain he could never forget.  Yet they didn’t understand that he’d been different, then.  Now Rumplestiltskin had _hope_ , and the power to protect those he loved.  And he would pay whatever price the magic required to do just that. 

“Does she?” he countered easily, knowing that she didn’t. 

Norco was still fighting his hold, and pain made his words sharp:  “She knows what you _will_ be, Dark One.” 

“Oh, it’s a bit late for that, dear,” Rumplestiltskin laughed, his genuine amusement a surprise to even himself.  Oh, the Black Fairy _could_ force the curse back into him—the possibility of that happening would exist for as long as he lived, no matter what Rumplestiltskin did—but he knew how to fight her, too.  He’d resisted even when he couldn’t touch magic, and now Rumplestiltskin knew enough to know that even the Black Fairy couldn’t keep him isolated from power forever. 

Yet even with his immense power rolling through him, Rumplestiltskin couldn’t hold Norco indefinitely, so Rumplestiltskin waved a hand to release the fae. Norco staggered to his feet immediately, glaring. 

“Deliver my message,” he told the fae who had once tortured him so gleefully, burning to kill him but knowing that doing so _would_ make an implacable enemy of the Black Fairy.  Norco had always been her favorite…and there was a plan forming in his mind.  

Besides which, sometimes humiliating your enemy was a far sweeter revenge than death ever could be. 

“And if I don’t?” Norco demanded, still shaky and breathless and hiding it behind bluster. 

“Don’t tempt me to kill you,” Rumplestiltskin hissed, magic rearing up in response to his fury, tingling in his fingers and ready to strike.  A cold wind whipped up between them as Norco obviously felt the power and tried too obviously not to flinch.  Rumplestiltskin leaned in close to him, his face just inches away, and continued in a whisper: “You’re useful to me now, as a peace offering.  Don’t change that…precipitously.” 

Norco was brave; he glared back. 

“Now go.”  Rumplestiltskin flicked his fingers, knocking the fae back with magic. Norco kept his balance—most wouldn’t have managed—but still stumbled several steps away. 

_Rumplestiltskin!_  

The timing of the call could not have been more perfect unless it had come a few minutes later, but Rumplestiltskin’s heart hammered into his throat anyway.  Desperation always made his name carry further and louder, and he could feel the worry behind the call.  He’d felt that a thousand times, but never in his True Love’s voice. 

Norco vanished, and Rumplestiltskin turned to look at Tinker Bell.  She was fine, and she’d heal the children that needed help or townspeople injured by the freezing rain.  He didn’t bother to tell her that he needed to leave; she’d figure it out. 

Belle needed him.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay Tuned for Chapter 27: “Old Grudges”, in which Belle, Ruby, Emma, and Hook reach the King’s Cave, Maleficent visits the Dark Castle, and someone turns traitor.
> 
> In the meantime, do you think Rumplestiltskin not having killed Norco is a tactical error, or is it all a part of a larger game he’s playing?


	28. Old Grudges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts BEFORE Belle calls Rumplestiltskin's name at the end of Chapter Twenty-Six.

**_Chapter Twenty-Seven—“Old Grudges”_ **

 

Belle, Ruby, Emma, and Hook had finished climbing the rock wall at about the same time that Rumplestiltskin hijacked Norco’s storm.  A few flying monkeys approached cautiously as they struggled upwards, hovering in midair and making laughing noises at the quartet, but none came close enough to do any harm.  Knowing they were watching didn’t help matters, though, and Belle wondered who they were reporting to.  At one point, Emma tried valiantly to blast them aside with magic, but the one monkey she hit was only replaced by two more.  Still, at least none of the monkeys tried to bite them. 

She was the last one over the edge, breathing hard as Ruby helped her up.  Belle had no problem with heights, but climbing wasn’t exactly her strong suit.  She’d also grown painfully aware of the fact that she was the least fit member of their team.  Probably because of that, Belle took some perverse pride in the fact that she’d been right on the obnoxious pirate’s heels.  Of course, Hook _was_ a bit handicapped, but at least Belle hadn’t slowed anyone down.  And at least Hook seemed a bit contrite about his past actions, which made her dislike him a little less. 

“I hate heights,” Ruby grumbled for the fifteenth time.  Belle gave her a wan smile in response. 

“I think I’m beginning to hate climbing,” she replied, brushing herself off.  Not that any of them were exactly paragons of fashion at the moment, having worn the same clothes for the past several days, but Belle at least preferred not to be dripping dirt everywhere she went. 

“Try doing it one handed, love,” Hook put in, looking seriously unhappy with the situation.  Only Emma seemed unaffected by the lengthy climb; it hadn’t _looked_ that far from the bottom, but the climb had taken almost an hour.  Now they were _all_ tired and cranky, and it was a darn good thing that the King’s Cave was only a few hundred yards away. If Belle was remembering the map right. 

“No, thanks,” she replied, trying not to think of who’d cut off that hand.  In the grand scheme of horrible things Rumplestiltskin had done, cutting off Hook’s hand hardly ranked very high, but Belle did still feel a flicker of pity for the pirate.  _A flicker that would be a lot bigger if he’d never tried to kill me, anyway._  

Still, she’d accepted his apology, so Belle resolutely pushed that thought aside.  Hook had made his choices and Rumple had made his, and they had come to some sort of terms during their time in Neverland.  She’d probably never _like_ Hook—it was hard to like a man who’d shot you, after all—but Belle could accept that he was on the right side.  They were allies, and Belle could live with that.  Even though Hook had disappeared for much of the first year of the war against the Witch, he was with them now, and that was what mattered most.  Particularly since he’d decided to stick around even after Emma had made her choice and it hadn’t been him.  

“So, which way?” Emma asked impatiently.  “It shouldn’t be much further, right?” 

Belle already had the map in her hand to confirm that.  “Not at all.  The King’s Cave should be up that hill and to the right.  Less than a half mile, I think.” 

“It’s about time,” Hook muttered, and even Ruby nodded at that.  

“Yeah, I’m— _Look out!_ ” 

A sudden noise made them all look up, and Belle’s heart sank as she noticed a dozen monkeys in the sky, swooping towards their group.  Teeth and claws were evident now, and the creatures were already screaming with anticipation of cornering their prey.   

“Run!” Emma shouted, and they all shot forward, racing around a bend as the monkeys bored in, screeching loudly enough to wake the dead.  Somehow, Belle managed to draw her sword as she sprinted, and she could see that the others had done the same.  Running and fighting at the same time was surely counted as a Very Bad Idea, but they were out of options, so the quartet ran for all they were worth. 

Pounding around a corner and feeling her breath echo in her ears, Belle almost missed the first monkey coming down.  But Ruby did not, and her excellent reflexes saved the day; the wolf girl leapt forward with surprising agility and skewered the monkey in mid-air, all without breaking stride.  Hook took out the second monkey and Emma the third, which made the others draw back a little bit.  That didn’t give the humans much breathing room, but it was just enough for them to make it around a second corner—and suddenly there was a cave in the distance.  There wasn’t time to verify that it was the _right_ cave, of course, but the map clutched in Belle’s sweaty left hand had indicated that there should only be one cave this far up the mountain.  Its mouth gaped open like a giant black maw wanting to swallow them, but anything had to be better than a flying monkey attack. 

As one, the four dove through the opening, whipping around to face the suddenly _larger_ flock of monkeys—and then the ground rolled wildly under their feet, dropping the quartet to the ground with no warning.  Belle hit her right elbow hard and lost her sword, and could tell from the various yelps and swears that the others were hurting too.  But most of the human noises were drowned out by the still-screeching monkeys, so Belle groped for the sword even as her head came up to watch the flock of monkeys approach.  She struggled to her feet, thrown off balance by the still-shaking ground, noticing that Emma had done the same but Hook and Ruby were still trying to pick themselves up.  The monkeys were almost at the cave opening— 

And then that no longer mattered as a giant bared wall slammed into place in the entranceway, caging them in and locking the monkeys out.  Several monkeys slammed into the heavy metal bars and screamed in fury, but the sudden protection held.  The quartet was too far into the cave for the monkeys to reach them with teeth or claws, although several did try, and the chorus of frustrated shrieks only grew louder when the monkeys failed. 

“Well,” Emma panted.  “That was good timing.” 

“You can say that again,” Belle managed to agree around her own heavy breathing.  

To her right, Ruby finally made it to her feet as the ground stopped shaking, and Hook did, too, even though he was far closer to the new metal cage-like wall that was blocking the monkeys out.  The pirate stared at the bars for a long moment, frowning, while Emma continued: 

“Let’s back up a bit in case those monkeys get more feisty.  Anyone got a flashlight?” 

Ruby laughed.  “Not in this world, Emma.  But I can make a torch.” 

“Good.  I’ve done those magic light-ball things, but I’m still not really great at them,” the Savior replied with a crooked smile.  “But don’t tell Regina I said that, will you?  She’ll only go on about me not practicing enough, and—” 

“Shut up, Swan.” 

All three women twisted to look at Hook, who was _still_ staring at the bars.  Emma’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and even Belle felt her eyes widening.  Hook was nothing if not polite (sultry, full of innuendos, and entirely too suave, but polite), and he always went to great lengths to treat Emma like she was, well, a princess.  So the suddenly sharp command came as a huge shock, and all three of them stared at the pirate.  Twisting, he finally looked at them over his shoulder, seeming half-amused, half-exasperated. 

“Have any of you lovely ladies noticed that there’s now no way _out_ of this cave?” 

“Uh.”  Ruby’s open-mouthed surprise covered all three of them, and Belle found herself exchanging a glance with Emma, who seemed equally mortified. 

But she squared her shoulders and looked back into the darkened cave, which seemed to continue backwards further than the small amount of light coming through the opening could illuminate.  Belle spoke as cheerfully as she could manage:  “We’d better go onwards, then.” 

She really didn’t like the idea of crawling into dark, possibly small, places, but if they were going to find the Janus Stone—and a way out of this cave—they had to.  Belle wasn’t exactly afraid of the dark or afraid of the unknown, but she really _didn’t_ like creepy and crawly things (like bats, snakes, or other creatures), and didn’t those always live in caves in stories?  The last thing Belle wanted to do was step on something that might bite her.  Being a firm believer in facing her fears didn’t mean that she wanted to face those fears _today,_ and while Belle was willing to take a deep breath and do her best, her stomach still fluttered a little at the thought. 

But creepy crawlies had to be better than flying monkeys that would turn you into one of them if they bit you, didn’t they? 

“Yeah.  Let’s get moving,” Emma said decisively, just as Ruby finished cobbling together two torches.  She handed one to Belle and kept one for herself, a decision that make perfect sense in Belle’s mind—Hook was a hand short, and Emma probably needed both hands if she was going to successfully work any type of magic. 

Of course, that meant Belle wound up leading the way while Ruby brought up the rear, but she could manage as long as she could see where she was stepping.  By the time they’d made it a few yards in, however, it became very clear that there was nothing natural about this cave.  And nothing crawly.  Belle should have been relieved…but she wasn’t.  So far as she knew, crawly things lived in caves.  If there were none of them here, that meant something else was bound to be. 

Tightening her grip on the torch, Belle led the way deeper into the cave.

 

****************

 

On her second visit, it became obvious that the Dark Castle wasn’t what it used to be.  The place was strangely…quiet.  Not quiet in a physical sense, necessarily—Maleficent had visited multiple times during Rumplestiltskin’s antisocial days and knew how truly _silent_ this castle could be.  But this was different.  Maleficent _knew_ this castle.  In fact, she’ been there while the place had been under other ownership, too—her own Forbidden Fortress wasn’t that far away—and she had never felt this. 

The Dark Castle had always been aptly named.  _Pretentious, but accurate._ Maleficent was old enough to know that Rumplestiltskin hadn’t built the place; he’d merely taken it from another dark sorcerer who had set himself up as king of the surrounding lands.  Rumplestiltskin had probably been unaware of the great public service he’d done the world in getting rid of Atlantes, and Maleficent had never bothered to tell him.  The Dark One had built upon the existing spells after moving in, rather than starting from scratch, which meant that the feel of the castle had remained fairly constant over the many centuries Maleficent had known it.  Until now. 

Now, the Dark Castle felt… _cleaner._   Walking through the front gates felt different than ever before, and not from what had happened when the Dark Curse ripped through.  She hadn’t noticed this during the christening, but then there had been so much happening, and she’d been rather distracted by the excellent opportunity to torment so many royals.  (Maleficent had only given a few of them chills, and none of those had been terribly important.  Save her idiotic little princess’ husband; _he_ had been fun to toy with.  And it had been long overdue.)  No.  This was a different quality of magic entirely. 

A chill ran down _her_ spine.  _Regina was right, it seems.  How amusing._ The (willfully) fallen fairy didn’t know if her old friend had told Rumplestiltskin that she’d shared his interesting secrets, but— 

“The bastard remains here, My Lady,” a somewhat familiar voice said as Maleficent made her way through the south garden.  Arriving a few minutes earlier, she’d found—much to her annoyance—that teleporting straight into the castle was outright impossible, now, thanks to whatever magic Rumplestiltskin had worked.  So, she was in the midst of taking the long (and not unpleasant) walk through the gardens, until she stopped cold, also recognizing the voice that answered: 

“You have done well, King Hubert,” said the motherly know-it-all—but there was something off in the delivery.  She didn’t sound _nearly_ as self-satisfied as normal.  Maleficent’s eyes narrowed. 

“Thank you,” the father of her _second_ sleeping princess’ True Love said gravely.  “What would you have me do?” 

“Slip this into his bedchamber,” the Blue Fairy’s voice replied as Maleficent eased herself around a corner enough to see the pair of them, first pausing to throw a bit of invisibility magic on herself.  “It will lead him through the gates where he can be spirited away to safety.  And then you alone will have saved our world from the greatest of evils.” 

Maleficent barely managed to hold in a derisive snort.  It wouldn’t do to be spotted; Maleficent had been on the receiving end of Reul Ghorm’s fury once before, and she had no desire to repeat the experience.  She would cheerfully leave such idiocies up to Rumplestiltskin—who would kill the condescending senior fairy, if there was any justice in the world—or to Regina, who was just crazy enough to do something that stupidly heroic.  _Regina’s always been…extreme.  It’s her heart that’s the problem, but at least she never went her mother’s road and tried to take it out._  

Of course, she’d known Cora.  She’d known _every_ major magical user over her six centuries as an evil(fairy-turned) sorceress.  The century and a half Maleficent had been a _good_ fairy no longer seemed to matter; she’d split with Blue and her all knowing ‘goodness’ and had never looked back.  Oh, she’d turned a curse or two in her time, and tormented a few well-deserving souls (nevermind her reasons for targeting Aurora and her mother; both princesses deserved what they had gotten, even if no one would ever see it her way except Regina).  But this was— 

Oh.  Her musings had made her miss King Hubert’s response.  _I really must stop doing that._   Maleficent had always been a tad distractible; Blue had once called it her greatest weakness.  But, Blue had never been honest enough for the then-purple fairy to care what she thought of her.  _And now I’ll show them just how_ honest _you are._ Regina had told her about the attempt to make peace with the Blue Fairy, but obviously Blue was too good for that! 

“I will be waiting,” Blue replied to whatever Hubert had said.  “Please, act quickly.  This must be accomplished before Rumplestiltskin returns.  He may no longer be the Dark One, but his motives are anything but pure.” 

Again trying not to snort—a very un-fairylike quality, she’d been lectured back in the day—Maleficent turned away from the travesty of a King being masterfully manipulated by someone more than twenty times his age.  _Hubert was always a bit of a stuck-up idiot.  Why did I try to seduce him so many years ago?_   Making a face, she headed into the castle and threw a spell out to find Regina, only then remembering to remove the invisibility magic on herself.  Her long strides ate up the ground quickly, and her thoughts kept her busy while her magic pinpointed the Evil Queen’s location.    _At least he was good looking, then.  Now he’s just rather…dumpy._ Perhaps she’d only been bored when she’d decided that seducing him was a grand idea.  Yes, that had to be it.  Boredom made Maleficent do the darnedest of things.  

“What in the _world_ are you doing here?” Regina’s voice cut into her thoughts before Maleficent managed to make it past the great hall.  She’d swapped to musing on other previous lovers—most better looking or at least more interesting than Hubert—and had settled on her memories of a previous Dark One who had been _quite_ the catch.  Thinking of past lovers helped her forget the one that had mattered most, the one that Blue had— _Don’t think of Diaval._ Dozens of others had come in the six centuries since her doomed love, and they were _so_ interesting.  There was plenty to distract herself with.  So she hadn’t been expecting to run into Regina so soon at all, and jumped when the other sorceress appeared. 

“I was bored,” she answered honestly, remembering her reasons for arriving at the Dark Castle in the first place.  

“Is that it?” Regina asked without the mocking rancor that the Evil Queen would usually have employed.  But then, they’d been one another’s only _true_ friends for a very long time, and a part of Maleficent wished they were still that way.  Regina had made other friends after casting the curse, however, and had even found True Love.  Where did that leave her? 

Out in the cold, that was where, unless she wanted to join this merry party of sorcerers Rumplestiltskin seemed determined to assemble.  It was the only choice—and yet thinking of the days before the Dark Curse still made her heart ache. 

“Did I mention that your outlaw once stole something from me?” she asked instead of admitting to her own loneliness, even though Maleficent knew that Regina saw right through her—just as she’d once seen right through Regina.  “He and that…merry band of his.” 

Regina snickered.  “Robin mentioned it, actually.” 

“I chose to let them live,” she replied, gesturing airily.  “Hunting them down would have been so…bothersome.  That, and the fools who actually _had_ the looking glass used it to run away.” 

“To Wonderland?  Good riddance to them.  One trip there was more than enough for me.” 

Trips.  _Oh.  Trips._   Maleficent had almost forgotten about Blue, but remembering made her always simmering anger rear back up again.  If it hadn’t been for Reul Ghorm’s arrogant insistence that she walk away from love, the Purple Fairy would never have become Maleficent, and—she shook her head.  Maleficent didn’t particularly care about young Henry for his own sake, but the boy _did_ have the Heart of the Truest Believer in his chest, and Maleficent remembered all too well what Blue could do with that.  

And he was Regina’s son.  That mattered a great deal. 

“The Blue Fairy is here,” she told her friend, focused now that her anger lent clarity to everything.  “I overheard her speaking to King Hubert in the courtyard.” 

“Hubert?  What does she want with that dumpy fool?” 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Maleficent smiled when Regina’s words echoed her earlier thoughts.  They really were so much alike.  “Your son.” 

_“What?_ ”  All traces of humor left Regina’s expression; the Evil Queen went white with fury and Maleficent could feel power crackling around her. 

_Always straight to the power, Regina.  Never much for subtlety…_  

“Hubert has some talisman to draw your boy to the courtyard so dear Blue can steal him away.  I suppose this means your little…détente with my old mentor has failed.” 

“I’ll kill them,” Regina snarled, just in time for beautiful, determined, and justice loving _Snow White_ to show up. 

“Kill who?” the sleeping princess turned queen asked curiously. 

“Hubert, that rat bastard.”  Regina wheeled towards Maleficent.  “Where is she?” 

“He was in the courtyard—” 

“Regina, wait!” Snow exclaimed, grabbing her arm before the Evil Queen could stalk out to where Hubert had been last seen.  “What’s going on?  You can’t just go after a King and—” 

“The hell I can’t!” 

Really, there were times that Maleficent remembered why she’d gone evil.  Some people just oozed _goodness_ so muchthat they gave her a headache.  Looking at the dismayed expression on Snow’s face, she _completely_ sympathized with Regina’s onetime desire to use a sleeping curse on the girl.  Snow didn’t remind Maleficent of Aurora— _much_ —but there was definitely something to be said for just being evil and getting rid of the people who annoyed you so very much. 

“Tell me what happened,” Snow urged her stepmother, and Maleficent didn’t bother fighting the urge to make a face.  

Had she been in her friend’s shoes, Maleficent would just have hurled a curse at the queen (a harmless one if she wanted to be nice) and gone off to do what she felt needed doing.  But Regina _had_ apparently changed enough to hesitate for a moment and turn back her way. 

“Maleficent?” 

“ _Maleficent?_ ” a new voice demanded, making all three of them wheel to face the pink-clad princess coming down a nearby set of stairs.  (Stairs Maleficent had been certain weren’t there a few minutes earlier; damn the castle’s sense of humor!  It had probably brought her there on purpose.)  “What is _she_ doing here?” 

“She’s my guest.  Is that a problem?” Regina snapped before Maleficent could bother to say a word to her second sleeping princess. 

_Your mother was smarter than you, dear,_ she didn’t say.  Instead she smiled at Aurora, the idiot king’s daughter in law.  She fit right in with Philip’s family, though the boy was smarter than his father.  Aurora, however, was deathly pale and staring at Maleficent as if she was going to curse her again.  _Maybe I am._ Then the girl turned to gawk at Regina as if she was just as horrible. 

Maleficent snickered.  _They don’t call us evil for nothing!_  

“I—” 

Snow cut Aurora off with a squeeze to her arm.  She had to let go of Regina to do so, but the Evil Queen stood still while Snow said to Maleficent’s pet princess:  “Aurora, this really isn’t the time.  Regina, what were you saying about King Hubert?” 

“He’s working with the Blue bug to take Henry away,” Regina snarled.  “And if either of them so much as lays a _finger_ on my son’s head, I’ll kill them both.  Slowly and painfully.” 

“Wait.  How do you know this?” Snow interjected before Regina could really get ranting.  _Pity._ Maleficent had always enjoyed Regina’s infuriated diatribes.  

“Maleficent overheard them talking.” 

“Wait, you’re going to believe _Maleficent?_ ” Aurora gaped.  Her obvious fear might have been funny if Regina’s stepdaughter hadn’t looked doubtful as well, and that would only slow things down. 

The former fairy rolled her eyes.  “I have no reason to lie to my _friend_ , you insignificant little girl.  Go back to your foolish prince and spawn another useless royal child, and leave higher intellectual matters to those of us who can rightly manage them.” 

Aurora looked too stunned to speak, but Snow stared at Maleficent in shock.  Regina, however, seemed to be fighting to hide a smile before she turned back to the matter at hand, giving her stepdaughter a hard look. 

“You can come or not.  It’ll probably be _nicer_ if you’re the one asking Hubert the questions, but I damn well will have the answers I need,” she told Snow in a tone that booked no argument. 

“Right.”  _At least Regina’s princess is smarter than mine!  What I wouldn’t have given to have an intelligent opponent.  Mine still resembles a bit of a fish, with her mouth gaping open like that,_ Maleficent thought as Snow squared her shoulders.  “Let’s find Hubert and find out what’s going on.  _Nobody’s_ taking Henry.  Not today, and not ever.” 

Well, that covered that, and Maleficent found herself striding back into the courtyard alongside the Evil Queen and Snow White.  She’d never really reflected on how odd it was that Regina’s son was her stepdaughter’s grandson, but danger to the cute little boy did indeed seem to unite those two.  Of course, Aurora tagged along, saying something about how she could reason with her father-in-law, and shouldn’t they let the army know that something was going down?  Regina ignored the simpering girl—who wasn’t really simpering, but Maleficent felt no reason to be fair to Aurora—and Snow just brushed her off, telling Aurora that they’d backfill Philip later.  Probably around the time they told Snow’s Prince Charming and Regina’s boy’s father, who were with that same army. 

Oh, their family tree was so complicated.  It was almost enough to give Maleficent a headache, but there was no way she was going to miss this confrontation.  Not if Regina was actually going to try to go against Blue.  She might even help.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is Chapter 28: “Old Debts”, in which Belle calls on Rumplestiltskin for help and Regina confronts the fairy who is trying to kidnap Henry.
> 
> Meanwhile, do you think that Maleficent is right and there is something “off” about the Blue Fairy? Also, who do you think will be waiting when our heroes make it to the Janus Stone?


	29. Old Debts

**_Chapter Twenty-Eight—“Old Debts”_ **

 

“Look out!” 

Emma threw herself aside and dragged Belle down with her; they’d stepped into a large cavern and suddenly there was magic _everywhere_.  A trio of fae—she recognized their unique brand of magic from her lessons with Regina—stood around a short pedestal upon which a glowing red rock was perched.  All three fae were smiling and spitting magic at Emma’s small group, looking utterly smug over their trap having been sprung.  Hiding behind a large rocky outcropping, Emma snuck a glance at the trio.  They were all female and had clearly been there awhile, judging from the layers of magic around them, though none carried packs or any type of survival gear.  Yet they’d obviously known Emma and the others were coming.  The fae had attacked with no warning, had struck before Emma had even realized that this cavern was occupied. 

 She scowled.  There wasn’t even any light other in there than that of the Janus Stone, which bathed the cavern in an eerie red glow.  Emma couldn’t see where the large cave actually ended, but she was willing to bet that there was no other way out than the way they’d come in—and they couldn’t leave without the damn rock that they’d come for.  Hundreds of shadows danced in the odd light, making it difficult to determine if there were more than three enemies present. 

Of course there were.  A trio of chimeras lurched out from a cave to the right, charging towards the rock behind which Ruby and Hook had taken shelter.  Or at least Emma thought they were chimeras.  She’d only ever seen one once and it had been barbequed, but those limbs looked terribly familiar— 

“Get the rock, Swan!” Hook shouted over the sudden thunder of magic arcing out to slam into the rock Emma and Belle sheltered behind.  “We’ll handle the terrible beasties!” 

Without waiting for an answer, Hook and Ruby surged into action, darting out to engage the monsters.  That action took the decision right out of Emma’s hands; she didn’t even have a chance to object.  So, Emma did the only thing that she could think of doing—turned to Belle and asked: “If I can hold them off, can you get the stone?” 

Belle peeked around the rock outcropping before answering: “Yeah.  I think so.”  The brunette bit her lip briefly, and then looked back at Emma.  “ _Can_ you hold them off?” 

“Only one way to find out.”  

Gritting her teeth, Emma brought her hands up and focused her emotions.  She thought of Henry and her parents, of Neal and Hook, of Belle and Ruby, too.  She thought of all the people she’d ever wanted to protect, thought of everyone who depended upon her as the Savior and a world that she had been born in but had never really been a part of.  _It doesn’t matter what your emotion is,_ Regina had told her more than once.  _Focus on what matters to you.  Screw what anyone else says is important._   So Emma did just that, picturing Henry’s face in her mind and thinking of how she’d felt when Pan’s agents kidnapped him, remembering her fury and her grief, and the fierce need to protect her son. 

Magic leapt from her mind and into her hands, white and bright, and Emma closed her fists around it.  A viciously powerful tingle ran up her spine, and Emma let out a deep breath.  She wasn’t as good at this as she should be, but she was all her friends had, so Emma would _make_ it work.  Even if those three fae were each a hundred times her age and knew so much more about magic than she did.  She didn’t care.  She just straightened and flung the magic forward, watching white lightning envelop the three fae, who yelped in surprise as magic swirled around them. 

“Keep their attention,” Belle told her as Emma ducked back behind the rock.  “I’ll circle around to the right and try to get behind them.” 

“Try not to get yourself killed,” Emma told the other woman with a lopsided smile.  “There’s no way I’m going to explain that to your boyfriend.” 

Belle laughed.  “I’ll be careful.” 

With that, Belle crept away from Emma, keeping to the shadows as the Savior summoned her magic again, straightening to fling more of it at the fae.  Regina hadn’t bothered with teaching her the finer points of magic usage, and Emma didn’t know a single actual _spell_ , but Regina had taught her to channel raw power to suit her needs.  There hadn’t been time to learn anything precise, but Emma had always been good at stubbornness, and stubbornness and focus were all that was needed in order to use raw power to accomplish something like this. 

The next burst that flew out of her hands knocked two of three fae back, and gave Belle time to make it halfway around the cavern.  Emma kept firing magic at them, dodging everything they threw at her—except a few spells that she had to waste time blocking with a emotionally-fueled bomb of her own magic.  Exhaustion started pulling at her after only a minute or two, however; this was the first time Emma had tried using controlled power all on her own, and she’d never expected it to be so damn _tiring._   Regina always made it look so easy! 

To her right, Belle had almost made it far enough that she could get behind the trio of fae.  The two Emma had knocked down were back up again, but one looked positively drunk from the way she was swaying back and forth.  To the left, Hook and Ruby were still facing off against a pair of chimeras.  The third one was down now, bleeding and twitching, and a second one looked ready to join it.  Ruby was unbelievably fast on her feet and far stronger than such a slight girl had any right to be.  Oddly enough, she and Hook made for one heck of a team; as Emma glanced their way, she watched Hook dig his hook into the stumbling chimera’s eye as Ruby’s sword bit into its throat.  Together, they took down the beast, while Hook whirled around to attack the other one.  Its claws managed to take a bite out of Ruby’s side as she yelped in pain and surprise, but the pirate shoved her aside before the chimera could injure her too badly. 

Then Ruby was on her feet again, despite the way she was bleeding from the left side.  Emma couldn’t afford to look any closer, however; the three fae were now trying to send magic towards the dead chimeras, as if they could reanimate them somehow— 

_Oh, no you don’t!_   Forgetting her rising exhaustion, Emma sent a giant blast of magic towards them, knocking all three down and watching one of fae’s head crack against the pillar upon which the shining red rock glimmered.  The other two got up shakily, but one of them flung toxic magic back at Emma and she barely ducked in time.  Rocks shattered around her, raining down, hot and burning.  Emma hissed in pain, swearing under her breath. 

“Come out, come out, little savior!” the fae to the left—she looked younger than the other one to Emma’s untrained eye, yet instinct insisted that she was more powerful.  “Face what destiny has always had in store for you!” 

“And what’s that?” Emma called back, buying time as she focused her sudden spike of fear into power.  The more tired she got, the harder it was, but Emma had never been any less than determined.  Every emotion was useful, so she’d use fear, too.  “You gonna tell me how horribly you’re going to kill me?” 

Laughter greeted her bravado as Hook and Ruby killed the last chimera together, and then had to dive behind cover to avoid a trio of curses that zeroed in on them.  Belle was just about there—all Emma had to do was keep the two conscious fae distracted long enough for her to grab the stone, then they could call on Rumplestiltskin and get the hell out of this nasty little cave. 

“We don’t want you dead, little savior,” the same fae replied, giggling.  “We have a far better use for you.” 

“Oh, and what’s that?”  Emma popped her head up briefly, just long enough to fling power at the two fae and hope it would hit.  She was nowhere near so lucky; the one who wasn’t speaking blocked it with a shield of some sort.  _Damn._ That that been the limit of the power Emma could muster; her vision was starting to go black in spots from the effort of throwing so much magic around, and couldn’t these two annoying fairy-like creatures just shut up and go away?  Her hands were growing heavy with exhaustion.  Raw power was _hard_ to use, harder than she’d ever imagined. 

“Did your teacher tell you about the Nightmare Curse?” the speaking fae asked as magic crashed into the rock behind Emma. 

“Nope, must have missed that lesson.” 

Ruby and Hook were starting to make their way towards her, and the wolf girl threw Emma a look that asked _Are they serious?_   Emma could only shrug in response—she didn’t think that the fae were supposed to be crazy, but at least one of these two seemed to be a bit off her rocker.  Things were starting to get ridiculous!  Stopping a fight to have an irrelevant conversation was just plain stupid, and Emma wanted nothing more than to get this over with.  But at least her frustration could be useful, and Emma channeled that into her magic.  That had been the first thing Regina had taught her to do. 

“You’re a child of True Love, little savior,” the fae said in a sing-song mocking voice.  “And you have _magic_.  Once we place you under the Nightmare Curse, you’ll erupt wildly with magic.  Every memory you have will only make the curse stronger, as you relive every nightmare you’ve ever had, every fear you’ve ever felt, and every dream you have turns to dust.  You will become nothing but a power source.” 

Emma grimaced.  Did they have to be so graphic with their threats?  “Thanks, but I’ll pass,” she retorted, coming out of her crouch to fire magic at them— 

Without warning, the unconscious fae suddenly launched herself upwards.  She had a small knife in her hand, sharp and gleaming in the red light.  It look…wet?  Emma’s instincts lit off a moment too late—there was _magic_ on that blade and there was no time to move— 

Suddenly, Hook was there, throwing himself between Emma and the fae.  The knife took him in the right shoulder, not a fatal wound but definitely a painful one.  Grunting in pain, the pirate fell to the ground, but not before he buried his hook deep in the fae’s throat.  She gurgled and collapsed in a heap, landing half across Emma’s feet.  Pinned down, Emma needed precious seconds to push the dying fae aside, during which another wave of magic washed over her, Ruby, and Hook.  Ruby and Emma grunted as a thousand freezing sharp nails of pain prickled into their skin, but Hook cried out in pain, already wounded and taking the brunt of the spell. 

There was something off in his expression, Emma realized.  Something very _wrong_.  Hook lay on his back, panting now as his eyes slid shut and pain raced over his expression.  Within a few seconds, he started convulsing—but before Emma could figure out what was happening, the red light filling the cavern flickered oddly and Belle’s voice shouted: “Rumplestiltskin!” 

Hands raised to fling more magic at the fae, Emma hurriedly redirected the magic into the ground in front of her, sucking it back in as fast as she could…because the two remaining fae had disappeared.  Belle held the Janus Stone in her hands as she hurried over to join them, and Emma could feel the sudden difference in the atmosphere, a lightness that hadn’t been there before.  Physical possession of the Janus Stone was how you controlled it, Belle had explained the previous night, and now the wards keeping anyone from just popping in using magic were down. 

Conceivably, anyway.  Emma hoped that Belle had a good grip on the rock, because if she didn’t and the Janus Stone wanted to disappear, all this would have been for nothing—including Hook getting himself stabbed.  Twisting to face her friend, Emma collapsed into a kneeling position at Hook’s side, feeling the power in her hands dissipate and exhaustion press in on her mind.  Her limbs suddenly felt heavy and her breathing sluggish…but that didn’t matter when Hook didn’t respond to Ruby shaking his uninjured shoulder. 

“Hook?” Emma touched his arm.  “You okay, buddy?” 

He moaned, and then suddenly the pirate flailed wildly, catching Ruby in the face with his hook and making her fall back with a sharp cry.  Hook started convulsing as Emma dove over to desperately grab for his left arm and keep him from doing any more damage.  Her first effort missed and Hook then managed to stab himself in the thigh, making the pirate scream in pain.  But once he started screaming, he didn’t stop—his handsome features clouded over with tension and he continued to thrash.  

“Hook?” she tried again, slamming her weight down on his arm so that he couldn’t hurt himself or anyone else.  “Killian!” 

There was no response, only Belle rushing over to join them.  “What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know!” Emma snarled, turning to try to look at Ruby and almost losing her grip on Hook’s arm.  “You okay, Ruby?” 

“I’m still alive, if that’s what you’re asking.  And not a flying monkey yet.”  They’d all been worried about that monkey bite, but so far Ruby seemed to be fine.  Or at least not a flying monkey, even if her face was bleeding fairly heavily.  At least Hook’s hook had missed her eye. 

“At the moment”—she shoved down on Hook’s arm again as Belle pocketed the Janus Stone to hold down his legs—“I think that’s a victory.” 

“What’s a Nightmare Curse?” Belle asked her, having to shout to be heard over Hook’s screams.  Emma wished to hell that she’d started learning magic back in Storybrooke.  Then she might have actually known the answers.  Who said the fae were telling the truth in what they’d said to her, anyway?  This could be anything. 

Hook convulsed wildly; Emma bit her lip.  _Whatever it is, he took it for me._ “I have no idea.” 

“An ancient and terrible curse, designed to use the power of someone’s own memories and worst fears to destroy their mind,” a new voice answered.  Magic flicked out, and Hook suddenly went still, his screams quieting to tormented whimpers. 

Overbalanced, Emma almost collapsed onto Hook, having been concentrating on holding his flailing limbs still.  But she caught herself and turned to face Rumplestiltskin as he approached, his face unreadable. 

“Can you fix it?” she asked, her heart in her throat.  Just because she’d chosen to make a go at it with Neal didn’t mean she wanted Hook to die—he was still her friend and she still cared about him.  Emma had had so few true friends in her life, and Hook was the only one who had never let her down or never abandoned her, and she couldn’t imagine a world without him. 

“There’s no cure for a Nightmare Curse,” Gold replied emotionlessly, and Emma was suddenly reminded of the centuries-long feud between the two men.  Of course it had been over a woman—Milah, Hook had called her.  Emma was vague on the details, but she remembered that Rumplestiltskin had killed the woman…but that she’d also been Neal’s mother.  “I haven’t mitigated the effects so much as I have masked them.  He’s reliving the worst moments of his life, now.  And imagining far worse.” 

“Then only True Love’s kiss will work,” Belle put in, her eyes on her own lover. 

Emma’s heart sank.  Hook was a good friend, but despite his hopes, she didn’t feel that way about him.  She shrugged helplessly, glancing at Belle.  “He tried it on me, once…but it didn’t work then, either.” 

A moment of heavy silence passed as Hook twitched and whimpered.  Emma could only imagine how three hundred years as a pirate could provide fodder for his nightmares—and what had the fae said?  That every fear would become real.  How long could you survive like that, imprisoned within your own mind and living your nightmares?   _Why did the fae want to do that to_ me, _of all people?_ Something about erupting magic.  There were times Emma really hated being the Savior. 

“Why the hell did you have to do that?” she asked Hook in a broken whisper, wanting to hit him more than almost anything.  If the fae had stabbed _her_ with that curse-coated knife, Henry could have woken her up, even if Neal couldn’t have.  

Hook didn’t answer, of course, or at least not with anything that was stronger than a tormented whimper.   

“He can’t hear you,” Rumplestiltskin answered her unspoken question, and Emma swallowed hard.  They couldn’t even say goodbye.  What the hell kind of horrible curse was this? 

“What about the bottles of True Love, Rumple?” Belle asked suddenly.  “Could they do something?” 

A long heartbeat passed in silence, and Emma thought she saw a flicker of something cross Rumplestiltskin’s face.  Was he contemplating lying, or unhappy that Belle was putting forth a possible way of saving Hook?  Their eyes met briefly, and although Emma couldn’t understand the multiple layers of communication passing between the pair, Belle shot Rumplestiltskin a significant look before his shoulders twitched in a very slight shrug.  Hook had sworn off vengeance against Gold, but Emma didn’t remember the sorcerer ever doing the same.  Her eyes narrowed. 

“Bottles like the one you stole instead of letting me use it to save Henry?” Emma demanded, feeling her temper rising as she remembered. 

Rumplestiltskin grimaced.  “Indeed.  And before you get worked up, Emma, there is no guarantee that the True Love potion I have will work.  The one I stored in Maleficent was from your parents.  If your kiss failed—which I knew it would not—it could have saved Henry because he is a direct descendant of Snow White and Prince Charming.  The only bottles I have that are ready for use are…well, not from anyone associated with Captain Hook.  Or even anyone he _wants_ to be associated with.” 

“We should still try, Rumple,” Belle said quietly, still crouching at Hook’s feet. 

“Of course.”  The sorcerer held out a hand, and Emma felt a _twinge_ of magic—and then there was suddenly a bottle of purple glowing magic in his right palm.  Still expressionless, Rumplestiltskin dropped to one knee at Hook’s side.  “Hold him down.  I’m going to have to remove the magic that is muting the effects of the Nightmare Curse for this to work.” 

Ruby scrambled forward to help, and the three women grabbed ahold of the whimpering pirate.  Emma glanced at the other two—Ruby on one side, her on the other, and Belle sitting on Hook’s feet—and received nods in return.  She looked back at Rumplestiltskin.  “Ready.” 

His left hand twitched, and Emma felt the complicated spell lift.  How _did_ the man make it look so easy?  Practice made perfect and all, but _really_?  However, Hook’s thrashing immediately stole her attention, and the pirate let out a horrified howl of pain, mixed in with pleas and unintelligible words. 

“Milah— _run_ —no…!” 

Perhaps those were exactly the wrong words to say—or maybe the right ones.  Something almost like regret flashed across Rumplestiltskin’s expression as the sorcerer carefully lowered the bottle to Hook’s lips, holding the pirate’s head still with his left hand as he did so.  He dripped the liquid in slowly, drop by drop, until the entire bottle was gone.  Several long seconds passed before anything happened at all—Hook continued wailing and convulsing while the women held him down.  Rumplestiltskin simply straightened slightly and watched, looking as if he didn’t care if Hook lived or died. 

“What now?” Emma demanded. 

“We wait,” the sorcerer replied evenly.  

“How long?” This time it was Ruby asking, with her face still bleeding and one eye almost swollen shut. 

“There’s no way to know.  The single _least_ effective True Love potion to cure Killian Jones would be the one I have just used,” Rumplestiltskin answered as he rose to his feet.  Hook’s shaking seemed to be slowing, slightly anyway; and was it Emma’s imagination or were his convulsions lessening, too?  

“Why’s that?” she wondered aloud, relaxing her grip on Hook as his limbs stopped going quite so wild. 

“Because it’s ours,” Belle replied openly.  “Rumple’s and mine.” 

Was that annoyance on Rumplestiltskin’s face, or resignation?  Emma couldn’t tell. 

“Right,” she said, shaking her head to clear away _that_ image.  Belle, however, only smiled.  It was a tolerant expression, nowhere near as annoyed as the one Rumplestiltskin was now wearing. 

“People always forget.” 

 Suddenly, Hook coughed, and his eyes popped open.  “Emma?” the pirate whispered.  “Is that you, love?  You look beautiful.” 

“I’m right here.”  Snorting, Emma shoved grimy hair out of her eyes.  She felt like _crap,_ tired and dirty and with every muscle she owned aching.  “But not really gorgeous at the moment.  We’re all a little battered.” 

“You saved me.” 

“Sorry, bud, but it wasn’t me.  You owe this one to Rumplestiltskin.” 

Emma had never thought Hook could go so pale.

 

****************

 

Regina, Snow and Maleficent strode into the courtyard together, with Aurora hard on their heels.  Snow had a sword in her hand, but was at least smart enough to stay a half-step behind the two magic users.  Her stepmother was extremely grateful that she’d developed at least that much common sense over the years, but Regina still half-wished that Snow would just stay behind.  Wanting to protect her was a far cry from wanting to ruin her life, but Regina supposed that a lot of things could change in three and a half years. 

But if there was one thing that would _never_ change, it was her love for Henry.  Henry was her son as much as he was Emma’s, and Regina would be damned if some self-important petty king was going to hand her son to the Blue Fairy.  It was odd—Regina had thought that the Blue Fairy (narrow-minded and ‘all-knowing’ that she was) had listened to Rumplestiltskin during that last meeting.  The fairy hadn’t seemed _happy_ , but she’d seemed open to the idea of working together against the Black Fairy, apparently understanding that the compromise of _neither_ of them having Henry’s heart was better than the Black Fairy getting it—or Rumplestiltskin throwing his weight in on the other side.  Regina had never liked the Blue Fairy, but that didn’t mean she thought that the bug was an idiot…but now she wasn’t so sure. 

How in the _world_ did Blue think this was a good idea, marching into the Dark Castle and— 

“There he is!” Snow cried, pointing to where Henry was walking across the courtyard towards the front gates, glassy-eyed and obviously enchanted.  “Henry!” 

He didn’t even twitch when his grandmother called his name; Regina was pretty sure he didn’t even _hear_ Snow.  Henry just kept walking as if in a daze, with King Hubert standing not very far away and obviously waiting for her boy. 

Regina saw red.  

“Take care of the fool,” she snapped at Maleficent, just knowing that her old friend would relish the opportunity to mess with Hubert.  But Regina turned her attention to Henry, grabbing ahold of him with magic and triggering one of the several protective spells she had put on him—doing so without tripping the ones Rumplestiltskin had used was tricky, but Regina had known she might need to do this for some time.  Or something like it.  The spell, previously dormant, roared to life, and magic wrapped around the teenager protectively, glowing purple in the afternoon sun.  Henry suddenly stumbled, going pale and shaking his head as if he had no idea where he was or what had happened.  Immediately, Regina called: “Henry!” 

He wheeled around to face her.  “Mom!” 

“Come here, boy!” Hubert started to order, but a wave of power swept him off his feet, and he screeched in surprise as Maleficent laughed.  

“You people keep forgetting that you have enemies,” the former fairy purred, striding over to where Hubert lay sprawled on the ground.  “And perhaps more importantly, this boy has _friends._ ” 

Henry was in Regina’s arms before she could blink twice, but the worst wasn’t over—suddenly, the Blue Fairy flew into the courtyard.  To Regina’s right, Snow drew her sword, her face as hard and tight as Regina had ever seen this. 

“What is the meaning of this, Blue?” her stepdaughter demanded, and for a short moment of clarity, Regina was suddenly reminded of herself.  The straight backed hostile expression was one she knew well—and an anger twin to Snow’s own boiled deep within the Evil Queen.  

“I have told you that I will always do what is necessary, child,” the fairy responded loftily.  “The boy is the Truest Believer, and—” 

“His name is _Henry,_ ” Regina cut her off in a snarl, shifting so that only her left arm was wrapped around her son.  She might need the other one, and soon; magic was starting to swirl around the courtyard, and most of it wasn’t hers or Maleficent’s. 

Her instincts were starting to tell her that something was wrong.  Something was very wrong.  Blue was watching Henry warily, _hungrily_ , and— 

“Regina, I don’t think she’s—” Maleficent started to say, only to be swept off her feet in a sudden gust of immense power.  The wave of magic caught the other sorceress completely unprepared, and Maleficent flew thirty feet into one of the outer walls, hitting with a sickening crunch. 

Regina’s own spell came only a moment later, a swift attack to keep the Blue Fairy from further hurting her friend, but it was swept aside with almost contemptuous ease.  She barely had time to shove Henry behind her before the counter attack hit her, but too late Regina realized it was only a distraction.  She was able to block that spell, but the one that mattered hammered into Maleficent, picking the former fairy up and tossing her over the wall like a broken ragdoll.  Sparks flew as Maleficent’s limp body impacted with Rumplestiltskin’s outer layer of wards, and Regina felt the magic rushing outwards—and knew her friend was dead. 

“Blue, what are you doing?” Snow cried; winds of power were rising and she had to shout to be heard.  But even when the fairy smiled, the words Maleficent never managed to say rang in Regina’s ears: 

_I don’t think she’s—_  

“She’s not the Blue Fairy,” Regina spat, stepping out to shield the other two.  “Get Henry out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” Snow retorted before the flying and tiny fairy suddenly transformed into the tall red haired woman who they had both seen at the Christening.  She was dressed in black and silver again, with a long dress that flowed behind her like the wings of a dragonfly, whipping gracefully in the wind.  A chill ripped down Regina’s spine, ice cold and terrified.  

She was a powerful sorceress—more powerful than almost any human magical user who had lived in centuries—but Regina knew that she couldn’t defeat the Black Fairy.  There was a reason that all-too-beautiful creature had become the legend she was: ruthless, deadly, and capable of dark magics that Regina had never even _dreamed_ of.  But—maybe she didn’t have to beat her.  Maybe she just had to buy Snow time to get Henry away, because if the Black Fairy could have gotten into the Dark Castle, she would have been there already. 

Regina’s hands came up, crackling with power, as her back straightened.  Her oldest and nastiest grin lit up her face, and the darkness within her, the Evil Queen that she had embraced for so long, raced up to meet that of her opponent.  Regina had tried so hard to be better for the last year and a half.  She had tried to be someone who Henry could be proud of, to be worthy of the family she had unexpectedly found.  In doing so, she had abandoned her old ways, had pushed the evil within her aside, and had tried to ignore the way her heart was already stained black.  But not now.  Now she could _use_ her darkness to protect those she loved, could pour every last bit of her blackened heart into her magic, and Regina knew how powerful that made her. 

“Surrender now, and I shall let you live,” the Black Fairy told her with something that sounded almost like respect.  “Else there is nothing that will save you from me.” 

“I’m not looking for saving,” Regina shot back.  “I hate to break it to you, but I’ve never been much of a damsel in distress.” 

The Black Fairy laughed, and power rang in the sound. 

At least Snow was backing up, slowly bringing Henry away from this fight that could only end one way.  But Regina had a son—and stepdaughter—to defend and a friend to avenge, and _that_ made her dangerous.  _All I have to do is hold her off long enough,_ Regina told herself, gathering power from the depths she’d never known she could reach.  _Just long enough._  

“How about you laugh less and fight more, _fairy_?” Regina taunted her opponent, and attacked.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is Chapter 29: “Worth Fighting For”, in which Regina takes on the Black Fairy, Baelfire and Charming’s army goes after Zelena, Mulan returns, and Tinker Bell makes an important choice.
> 
> And now my questions for you: 1) What do you think Norco wants with Grumpy? 2) Do you think that the Blue Fairy has chosen to be on the “heroes” side, or that she’s doing something else?


	30. Worth Fighting For

**_Chapter Twenty-Nine—“Worth Fighting For”_ **

 

Snow hated the thought of leaving Regina to fight the Black Fairy on her own, but she had to protect Henry.  She didn’t know exactly what would happen if the Black Fairy was able to get Henry’s heart, but nothing good could come of it—either Henry would die, or he would live a horribly empty life as a prisoner of the world’s most evil fairy.  Not wanting the Blue Fairy to get her grandson’s heart didn’t mean Snow wanted her enemy to have it, and that meant she had to get Henry away from this fight.  Getting Henry to safety was the best way she could help Regina.  Besides, Snow knew enough to know that her sword would be about as useful against the Black Fairy as a mosquito bite, and probably less annoying.  So she had to get Henry away.  Now. 

Even though the thirteen year old seemed rooted to the spot, unable to tear his wide eyes away from the battle between his mother and the Black Fairy. 

“Henry.”  Snow tugged urgently on the arm she still held.  “Come on.  We have to go.” 

“But—” 

“We can’t help her,” she told her grandson.  “All we can do is make this harder for Regina.  The best thing we can do is make sure she doesn’t have to protect us, too.” 

Huge brown eyes turned to stare at her, and for a moment Snow was reminded of herself as a child, wide-eyed and terrified, knowing she was going to lose her dying mother and unable to do anything to help.  Her heart clenched, but she pushed the pain aside.  There was nothing to guarantee Regina would die.  After all, how many people had tried to kill the Evil Queen over the years? Regina was tough.  Finally, Henry nodded.  “Okay.” 

Together, they sprinted for the nearest door leading into the castle, while Snow tried not to think of wherever Maleficent’s body had been thrown.  Thankfully, Aurora had run inside the moment the Black Fairy had revealed herself, calling for help that Snow knew wasn’t inside the castle.  Tink had headed off to help Emma and never made it there, at least not judging from the last communication Emma had sent before heading for the King’s Cave.  Rumplestiltskin was—well, Snow didn’t know where, but if he wasn’t back, it was probably because he’d run afoul of other fae during his quest to find their hiding places.  The Blue Fairy was nowhere to be found; now that Snow knew _this_ wasn’t her, it seemed evident that Blue and the rest of the fairies weren’t going to help them. 

That meant Regina was on her own.  

The wind in the courtyard was already fierce; it felt like a hurricane blowing through, dark and heavy, dangerous and terrifying.  Running against that wind was hard; it took twice as long as it should have for Snow and Henry to reach the kitchen door.  Lights were starting to flicker against a rapidly darkening sky as Regina and the Black Fairy fought, and Snow could feel the magic down in her very bones.  Finally reaching the door, she grabbed ahold of the handle and heaved with all her might—only to have the door refuse to budge.  Snow tugged again, but the hinges didn’t even squeak.  It was stuck.  Even Henry’s help didn’t make the door move, and both grandmother and grandson wheeled around to stare at the suddenly laughing Black Fairy. 

“Did you think it would be that simple to escape me?” she asked lightly, vanishing for a moment and then reappearing between Regina and the other two.  Her hazel eyes zeroed in on Henry.  “Come with me now, boy, and spare the others a great deal of pain.” 

Henry only stared; Snow felt her hands land unconsciously on her grandson’s shoulders and hold tightly.  It was tempting, she knew, the thought of sacrificing yourself to save everyone else.  Snow had done it, and she knew that her grandson had such courage in him.  But now was neither the time nor the place; such a sacrifice would only make matters worse.  However, Henry had to make that decision on his own.  If Snow tried to force him, he would only resent her—and possibly try to turn himself over, anyway. 

_Sometimes the hardest sacrifice is knowing when to say no,_ Snow thought grimly.  _Even if it means leaving those you love to fight, and if need be, to die._  

“No.” Henry’s voice was surprisingly strong, and Snow felt the teen square his shoulders.  “I’m not gonna betray my family by going with you.  Not ever.” 

“You’ll regret that.”  Was it Snow’s imagination, or did the Black Fairy smile ever so slightly?  She was enjoying herself!  “I promise you that, _Henry._ ” 

A sudden gust of power slammed into the Black Fairy, making her stagger and cutting off anything else she might have said.  The tall redhead caught her balance quickly, but by the time she did, Regina had vanished and appeared a few feet away from Snow and Henry, clearly intending to shield them with her body if necessary.  “No,” the Evil Queen cut in.  “You’ll regret not dealing with _me_ before you started bothering my _son._ ” 

A sudden whirlwind of purple magic reared out of the ground, enveloping the Black Fairy.  Grinning, Regina snapped her hands up to chest height, slowly bringing them closer to one another as power cackled between her palms.  In response, the whirlwind thickened and tightened, wrapping closely around the so-called Fae Queen and completely obscuring her features.  A roaring noise filled the air, sounding like an incoming freight training closing around the Black Fairy.  Snow thought she heard a noise of distress coming from within the cloud—until the whirlwind collapsed, and suddenly the Black Fairy was free. 

And laughing. 

She hadn’t even bothered to escape the cloud; no, she’d taken ownership of it.  Arms held straight out, with her long sleeves billowing like silken wings, she absorbed Regina’s potent magic with a playful smile creasing her porcelain white features.  The whirlwind vanished as she continued to laugh merrily, and her arms came down as she tossed her long hair back over one shoulder. 

“You _are_ talented,” she told Regina, looking the human woman over appraisingly.  “And wasted on mere humans.” 

Regina snorted.  “As one of those ‘mere’ humans, I think I’m insulted.” 

“You’re not only human.  You are a queen—and a sorceress.”  The beautiful voice went soft and convincing, alluring.  “Come with me, and you may keep the boy you call your son.” 

Snow’s heart hammered into her throat.  The cornerstone of Regina’s redemption had always been her love for Henry.  Regina cared for nothing the way she loved her son; her broken heart had started to heal through Henry, and Snow knew that even the Evil Queen’s powerful feelings for Robin Hood were dwarfed by how much Henry meant to her.  Would that tip the scales?  Would that— 

“How crazy do you think I am?” Regina demanded of her opponent without missing a beat.  “We all know that we can’t trust you, and _I’m_ not foolish enough to think I’d be anything more than a tool to you.” 

The benevolent smile vanished, replaced by something far darker.  Suddenly, the Black Fairy was all danger and sharp edges.  “Useful tools survive, child,” she said softly, and Snow felt the electricity in the air.  “My enemies do not.  I will do well by you, Regina.  If you make the right choice.  Ignore my offer at your peril.” 

“Oh, like my sister?” Regina shot back.  “You’ve done great by her.” 

“So be it, then.”  The answer was all but a snarl.  Pale white hands rose again, black lightning arcing between them.  

Regina didn’t even blink. 

“Bring it, fairy.”

 

****************

 

“The Witch is here!” Mulan shouted as her horse slid to a stop next to where Baelfire and his company crouched in the woods. 

“Here?” Bae echoed, blinking in surprise. 

Out of breath, Mulan only nodded, her chest heaving almost as heavily as her horse’s. 

Baelfire rose from his crouch, grabbing his looking glass so that he could spy on the growing battle at the bottom of the hill they were perched on.  Early that morning, his scouts had spotted ogres, griffins, chimeras, and a host of other magical creatures massing on the plain in front of Regina’s old castle.  The timing was perfect.  His and David’s army had been closing in on the Witch’s stolen stronghold for days, hoping to lure her into one final battle in which they could destroy her forces once and for all.  She had finally obliged them, and flying monkeys had led the attack that started not long after noon.  The fighting had been fast and furious ever since; both sides knew that this battle would turn the tide of the war one way or another.  

Two hours later, the Witch’s army had suddenly faltered, buying David time to split his forces.  Philip took over commandant he right wing while Bae separated out a hundred of their best daredevils—the same team that had taken King Stefan’s castle with him—leading them around the rear of Zelena’s forces.  His original intention had been to sneak in and seize the castle, hoping to find a way to capture the Witch before she could call on any of her fae allies.  By this point, everyone knew that the Witch wasn’t the worst threat they faced, and it was high time they ended the bloody war for control of the Enchanted Forest. 

But Zelena’s sudden appearance on the battlefield changed everything.  Bae could see her through the looking glass Hook had loaned him, surrounded by flying monkeys and other fell creatures.  However, the way her forces responded to her mattered more than the half-mad still on her face—no longer were the ogres milling about aimlessly or griffins attacking one another.  Now her army was focused again, and Bae could see them pressing into David’s front ranks, pushing into the gaps in the Grand Alliance’s ranks and tearing into his allies. 

“We’ll take care of her,” he told Mulan, not sure how he was going to pull that off but knowing they had to find a way.  “Get back into the fight.  David needs you down there.” 

After all, he still had a crossbow and Bae hadn’t given Robin all of his squid ink coated arrows.  He’d figure something out. 

Mulan grinned.  “He said you’d say that.”  The warrior woman dismounted, and for the first time, Bae noticed the sword-shaped bundle tucked under her left arm.  “I’m here to watch your back.  And to give you this.” 

She held out the sword, flipping the cloth wrapped around it back, and offering him the weapon, hilt first.  Immediately, a chill ran down Bae’s spine.  He’d suspected as much, but being handed _Excalibur_ was another thing entirely.  If David had been there, he’d have argued—but the king really did know what he was doing. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.  I guess I’m in the big leagues now.” 

“What?” Mulan frowned as the reference sailed over her head. 

“Nevermind.  Just a saying from the Land Without Magic.”  Finally, Bae accepted the sword, feeling the tingle of magic race up his arm as he wrapped his fingers around the grip.  He’d spent so long running from magic, hating it, but the last year in the Enchanted Forest had taught him that magic was a part of his life.  And here he was, holding the most legendary magical sword in any world.

_If my thirteen year old self could see me now…_   Bae would never be able to go back to being just a spinner’s kid from the Frontlands, but maybe that was okay. 

“You ready?” Mulan asked, breaking Bae out of his short reverie. 

“Yeah,” he answered.  “Let’s kill the Witch.”

 

****************

 

Hook staggered to his feet, obviously still shaking but doing much better.  Emma reached out to steady him but never managed; the pirate caught his balance on his own.  

“You okay?” she asked quietly, noticing how pale he still was and how his limbs seemed to want to shake.  The Nightmare Curse really was aptly named, and Hook looked like he was still seeing a bit of his less savory dreams. 

“Better,” he replied gruffly, his voice clearly still hoarse from all the screaming.  Then he turned to eye the former Dark One warily.  “It seems I owe you my life.” 

“You owe it to Belle,” Rumplestiltskin replied immediately, with an odd twitch in his expression that wasn’t precisely friendly.  “I’m not that kind.” 

“Rumple.” The beauty looked unhappy, but Emma wasn’t surprised.  After all, Hook had been trying to kill Gold less than two years ago, and even if vengeance was no longer on the table, plenty of bad blood remained between the pair. 

Rumplestiltskin only shrugged and moved over to Belle’s side, his expression softening.  “Sweetheart, I am many things, but even with my curse broken, I’m no saint.” There was a flicker of that smile, the one that Emma knew he only wore for Belle.  “You’re always going to be better than I.” 

“Not as much as you think,” Belle replied softly, smiling back at him. 

Suddenly, Emma realized that this was the first time that watching a True Love couple hadn’t made her feel a little envious.  She’d been closed off for so long and then had come to unexpectedly _burn_ for love like that.  Maybe she and Neal were not True Love; maybe they were.  But she had something special for the first time since before Henry was born, and Emma was finally happy with her choice. 

Hook cleared his throat and turned to Belle.  “Then I owe you my thanks.  And a debt I will strive to repay.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Belle replied with a smile.  “It was the right thing to do.” 

“Even a pirate does not forget the woman to whom he owes his life,” Hook answered, reaching out to take Belle’s left hand, the one not intertwined with Rumplestiltskin’s.  His next action made Emma blink, not sure if she should be more surprised by Hook kissing Belle’s hand or Rumplestiltskin letting him.  “If you ever have need of me, all you need do is ask.”

 

****************

 

Regina’s vision was starting to swim.  She’d been in more than a few magical duels during her heyday—mostly against idiots who thought they could take down the Evil Queen and failed utterly—but facing off with the Black Fairy was nothing like any of them.  Oh, she’d gotten in a few good blows of her own, but the smug and smiling bitch shrugged most of her spells off with contemptuous ease.  Then she hammered Regina with magic that almost defied explanation, pure and sweet dark power.  It wasn’t fairy dust and it wasn’t human magic; it was something stronger and far more terrifying. 

Knowing that she was faring better in this fight than any other sorceress would was a very small consolation.  Regina was still losing, and she was all that stood between this monster and Henry. 

Only determination kept her on her feet as Regina half blocked a burst toxic black magic and just weathered the reset, gritting her teeth against the pain and forcing a smile.  “Is that the best you can do?” 

“No.  I shall do _far_ worse,” the fae snarled.  Regina’s constant goading seemed to really annoy her; apparently, the Black Fairy preferred clever quip exchanges to snarky attitude.  So, she flung fire towards Regina, and the Evil Queen barely managed to dodge in time. 

“For an all-powerful being, you’re sure taking a long time killing me,” she shot back. 

She only had to last long enough for help to arrive.  Snow had already tried calling on Rumplestiltskin—clever girl—only to find the Black Fairy’s magic blocking that spell.  But the Black Fairy hadn’t seen the tablet that the younger queen had pulled out of her pocket, and probably wouldn’t have realized its significance even if she had.  Snow had caught Regina’s eye no long afterwards, and the message was clear.  Help was coming.  All Regina had to do was hold out. 

A brick wall of magic crashed into her in response to her last taunt, and Regina saw stars as she crashed into the ground.  A hastily assembled shield barely absorbed the brunt of the Black Fairy’s next attack, and the edges of that spell slammed into her, too.  But Regina had always been stubborn, so she staggered back to her feet, spitting out blood.  It didn’t matter if she swayed drunkenly.  It didn’t matter if only her magic kept her thinking, fighting, functioning.  What mattered was that she could still fight. 

She didn’t dare look over her shoulder at Henry.  Not when Regina knew how worried and heartbroken his expression would be…and not when she was busy dying to keep him safe. 

Focusing on her desperate love for her little boy, Regina let that emotion fill her soul and fired vicious white light at the Black Fairy.

 

****************

 

“Blue!” 

Tink burst into the senior most fairy’s private sanctum without a single regret, interrupting a meeting between Blue, Silver, and Cyan.  The other two were far older than Tink, the two most powerful fairies left now that the Rose Fairy was dead, but Tink just didn’t care.  She hardly even waited for Silver to stop talking, and just cut in.

“The Black Fairy is at the Dark Castle,” she said without preamble. 

“Green—” Cyan started, gaping at her audacity. 

“ _Tinker Bell,_ ” she cut the older fairy off; Tink had never liked Cyan, who was even more stuck up than Blue, and utterly full of her own importance in the complicated fairy hierarchy.  “And I wasn’t talking to you.” 

“This is not the first time my sister has visited the Dark Castle,” Blue put in calmly before Cyan could get really worked up.  “I fail to see how it is my concern.” 

Not slapping Blue with the tablet still clutched in her hand took all the self-control Tink could muster.  Instead, she said: “She knows about Henry somehow, and she’s after him.  Regina’s trying to stop her.”                                                 

It went without saying that Regina could not be faring well, but Blue’s expression never so much as twitched in concern.  Then, Blue had never approved of Regina or Tink’s attempts to help her.  She’d never believed that Regina could be better than the Evil Queen, and probably still didn’t.  A faint look of distaste crossed Blue’s face.  “And Rumplestiltskin?” 

“Not there.” 

A long moment of silence passed between them; Tink tried not to fidget impatiently.  Finally, unable to wait any longer while Blue debated the merits of doing the truly right thing, Tink snapped: 

“This is your chance.  You can either abandon them, or you can help.  But I know which side I’m on.” 

She met Blue’s eyes fiercely, hoping against hope that coming here hadn’t been a waste of time, that she hadn’t just doomed her friend with this delay.  But Tink knew that she wasn’t enough to tip the balance against the Black Fairy in a fight.  Only Blue or Rumplestiltskin could do that, and she had no idea where Rumplestiltskin had gone once he’d left her in Nottingham two hours earlier.  Besides, it was high time that Blue stepped up and actually fought for her own beliefs instead of making others do it for her. 

“Make your choice, Blue,” Tink demanded.

 

****************

 

With Mulan by his side, Baefire cut his way through the assortment of magical creatures surrounding the Witch.  Eviscerating a chimera while Mulan took out a pair of goblins, Bae next sidestepped a group of selkies and left them to his companion, then leapt over a dead centaur before it could trip him.  Sheathing Excalibur, he pulled the crossbow down from where it had been strung across his back, the weight in his hands familiar and more comfortable than a legendary sword would ever be.  They were finally close enough for him to shoot a squid ink-tipped bolt straight into Zelena’s back, and Bae wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. 

“Cover me!” he snapped to Mulan while several of his soldiers caught up in time to rush forward and engage the selkies.  Meanwhile, Mulan stepped up beside him, her sword flashing out to decapitate an approaching yeti. 

_Is this a battlefield, or a zoo?_ Bae wondered as Mulan shot him a grin.  The Witch really was pulling out all the stops today. 

“You shoot, I’ll fight,” she told him. 

“Deal.” 

Sighting along the crossbow, Bae sucked in a deep breath and ignored the rest of the world.  He paid no attention as Mulan killed a crazy-looking human, or when she dodged around a berserker gray unicorn who tried to skewer her.  Bae just focused on Zelena’s back, not caring if it was ‘dishonorable’ to shoot her there.  He was aiming for her shoulder, anyway, trusting that the squid ink would freeze both the Witch and her magic.  Despite what he’d said earlier about killing her, Bae really preferred to take Zelena alive.  She had numerous crimes to answer for, and he knew enough about human behavior to understand that various members of the Grand Alliance would need to see _someone_ take the blame for the reign of terror that the Witch had spawned. 

Still, he wasn’t stupid enough to bring a sword to a magic fight, even if David had been nice enough to give him an enchanted blade.  That was why Bae preferred squid ink coated crossbow bolts.  One more deep breath, and he squinted his left eye shut.  There was no way he’d get a chance for a second shot, so this one had to be perfect. 

Green sparks emulated from Zelena’s hands; her posture was tense with concentration.  She had no idea he was there as Mulan took out another goblin.  Slowly and steadily, Bae’s finger squeezed the trigger—and then suddenly his sights were full of fur, teeth, and wings.  Screaming, the monkey took the bolt right in the chest, and the squid ink froze it in midair.  But the monkey had been dive bombing Bae, so it fell out of the sky and landed right on top of him. 

Hitting the ground hard underneath a mess of furry dead monkey, Bae heard something _snap._ He’d already started in on an inventory of his own body parts when he realized what it had to be. 

“You okay?” Mulan asked, pausing in her fight to haul him to his feet with ridiculous ease for such a slender girl.  The monkey flopped off to the side, leaving bits of blood and fur on Bae. 

“Yeah, but the crossbow isn’t.”  Bae was going to be bruised as all hell, but his weapon of choice was in three pieces.  Maybe an armorer could repair it, but so far as this battle was concerned, it was toast. 

Mulan followed his gaze.  “That’s a problem.” 

“No kidding.” 

Bae supposed that he could _stab_ Zelena with one of the remaining bolts—most of them weren’t broken, and they were all coated in squid ink—but he’d still have to get close enough to do that.  He groaned.  Either way, he was going to be bringing a short, handheld sharp object into a fight with a sorceress.  Being out of options didn’t make that any less _stupid_ , particularly since the fighting around them was only growing fiercer.  Zelena still didn’t seem to have noticed Bae or his company, but if she hadn’t, why had the monkey come after him?  Bae couldn’t escape the feeling that something was going to go terribly wrong—but there was no time to sit back and contemplate the horribleness of the situation; they were still in the middle of a battle. 

“What now?” Mulan asked as she took down a chimera, making it look stupidly easy.  “Retreat and regroup?” 

“No way.”  Bae drew Excalibur and helped with the next two creatures.  Determination made his sword strokes strong, and he cut a goblin in half without so much as blinking.  “We’re ending this today.” 

The best thing about Mulan was that she never argued about stupid stuff.  She was a woman of action, plain and simple, happiest when the fight was honest and there were enemies to defeat.  So she just nodded and took up a position on his left side.  “Your lead.” 

Together, Baelfire and Mulan surged forward, cutting their way through the thicket of creatures between them and the Wicked Witch of the West.  Zelena was about forty feet away from where the monkey had dive bombed Bae, a long shot with a crossbow but one Bae had been sure he could make.  Now, however, he wished he’d gotten closer, because Zelena wheeled around before he and Mulan had made it further than another ten feet, her grin face splitting into a vicious grin. 

“Kill them!” she ordered the trio of monkeys orbiting overhead, and all three dove. 

Dodging the first one, Bae split the second in half with Excalibur as the Witch turned her attention back to a pair of ogres that had suddenly turned around and were lumbering into _her_ troops instead of the Grand Alliance’s.  That was odd.  Didn’t she have the Janus Stone to keep all these creatures under control?  Mulan killed the third monkey and they took the remaining one out together while Bae turned that thought over in his mind.  Zelena might be smiling, but she looked _tired_ , like the magic Bae could see flashing between her fingers was draining her.  That meant she was working on something powerful, and if he couldn’t see the effects of that power—if people weren’t dying in droves or turning into flying monkeys—it _had_ to be that she was working to control the creatures of her army. 

Wait. She’d shown up without any warning at all instead of staying safe in her castle like she usually did.  There’d been chaos before her arrival, too, with dark creatures going every which way and doing as much damage to each other as they did to the enemy.  But once Zelena had shown up, everything had sorted itself out and her army had renewed their attack— 

_Emma did it!_ The thought tore through him like a blinding flash of light, brilliant and beautiful.  Emma and Belle must have managed to fetch the Janus Stone out of hiding, despite whatever traps Zelena had put in their path.  And _that_ meant that the Witch was stuck controlling her army with magic, which in turn meant that she was weaker now than she’d ever been before.  This was their chance. 

Rushing forward, Bae yanked a crossbow bolt out of the pack on his hip with his left hand.  Mulan was right on his heels, and together they sliced their way through the remaining creatures as Zelena fought to keep control over them.  Immediately, the Witch screamed for monkeys to attack them, but none were close enough.  Once, she spun to face them and threw a green bolt of power in their direction, but it split the difference between them and both dodged easily.  The attack seemed weaker, too, and that was enough to tell Bae that his suspicions were right.  _They’d better be, or we’re both dead!_ He didn’t think that Zelena was subtle enough to try lulling them into a false sense of security by faking that her power was lessened, but there was no way to be certain. 

Mulan zagged left and he zigged right.  The slender woman immediately went after Zelena with her sword, only to be blasted back by a sudden wave of a green hand.  But that freed Bae to act, and he leapt towards the Witch, aiming the crossbow bolt for her side.  He didn’t even have to stab her with it.  Contact with the squid ink would be enough— 

Fire blossomed in his hand and the bolt disintegrated.  Pain on his left hip matched the burn, and Bae suddenly realized that Zelena must have had some sort of protective spell up to keep away objects that might disable her.  But the spell didn’t stop him, and he was already in motion, so he just let his momentum carry him right into her, tackling the Witch like the football player he’d never been in the Land Without Magic.  Still, he’d been a decent brawler in his time, and Bae knew how to take someone down hard.  So he did. 

He rolled off the Witch as she spat and swore.  “You’ll pay for that!” 

“Oh, did I ruin your fancy dress?” Bae asked cheekily, already on his feet and with Excalibur in hand. Yeah, bringing a sword to a magic fight was downright stupid, but it was the only choice he had, now. 

“You cursed brat!” 

Bae snorted.  “I hate to tell you, lady, but I’m a hell of a lot older than you are.” 

Zelena snarled, and even as that same pair of ogres turned around again (what _had_ she done to infuriate them?  Bae was half tempted to distract her long enough to let the ogres get Zelena, since they seemed to want to), she flung a cloud of magic at him.  Out of options—it was too big to dodge—he let his instinct guide him and parried the spell with Excalibur.  He didn’t expect it to work, and braced himself for pain, hoping that Mulan would be able to get up and get Zelena while the magic worked on him…but nothing happened.  Excalibur turned the spell aside easily, bouncing it back towards Zelena.  The Witch pushed it aside in a hurry, but Bae could see the strain on her green face again. 

“Oh, I know,” she purred back at him, clearly trying to get the upper hand back.  “So, how is your relationship with dear Papa going?  Has the prodigal son regretted coming home yet?” 

“Not for a moment.”  It was surprising how easily that answer came, but it was true.  

“Pity you aren’t as smart as your father,” Zelena retorted, sparks of magic rolling between her hands as she readied her next attack.  “It might have been worth keeping you as a pet if you were.” 

Too bad the ogres were distracted.  Watching this obnoxious woman be stepped on would have really made Bae’s day.  But since that wasn’t going to happen, he just laughed and blocked that spell with Excalibur, too, ignoring the way his wrists were starting to tingle.  “I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not the pet type.  Not really housebroken.” 

“That sounds like a challenge,” she retorted, and Bae’s heart skipped a beat.  He hadn’t meant to _interest_ the crazy Witch.  And she was definitely crazy.  That obsessive gleam in her eyes was downright dangerous.  “Perhaps I _will_ keep you, Baelfire.” 

He dodged the next spell, but only barely, trying not to think of the horrible things that being Zelena’s _pet_ would entail.  That thought frightened him more than he’d like to admit, particularly when he thought of all the reasons he had to get out of this battle safely—a battle he’d foolishly courted with a sorceress.  _Bring a sword to a magic fight, and…_   Heart hammering in his throat, he forced the fears aside and dodged yet another attack, this time having to drop to the ground and roll away from her.  Yet doing so taught him something—Zelena’s magic seemed to have a very limited range at the moment.  Was controlling the creatures that much of a strain?  It must have been.  Once he was more than fifteen feet away from her, she seemed unable to attack him. 

Too bad his crossbow was broken.  Gathering his wits, Bae rolled to his feet and started thinking about his next move.  Meanwhile, Zelena’s crazed look only grew, her green face screwed up with hatred. 

“Going so soon?” she demanded.  “I wouldn't hear of it.  My little party's just beginning!” 

“More like it’s ending,” Bae retorted, leaping forward once more, closing the range with Zelena in what was almost a suicidal move.  Her hands came out, sweeping magic towards him, but the spell was weaker than any of the others, and he only caught the fringes of it.  Pain shot through his shoulders, but he was able to shrug it off, whipping his sword forward with as much force as he could muster. 

“Sorry that the bucket of water was too unwieldy.  This'll have to do,” he told her as Excalibur went in her chest and came out through her back.  

“How cute.”  Zelena coughed up blood, but didn’t look worried.   “You think a little sword can kill me?” 

“This isn’t just a sword,” Bae replied as the green drained off her face like so much food coloring, revealing a pale-skinned woman who looked far younger than she had seconds earlier.  “It’s Excalibur.”

 

****************

 

Regina hit the ground hard, smacking her head against the courtyard’s cobblestones.  As the world around her faded, she thought she heard Henry calling for her—and was that Snow calling her name, too?  The Black Fairy was laughing again, but then there was a fourth voice, one she recognized and for some reason felt angry about.  The Black Fairy was no longer laughing; in fact, now she sounded angrier than she had during their entire fight, aloof and cold.  

But Regina couldn’t care, couldn’t think, and everything was going black. 

 

****************

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Chapter 30: “Towards the Sun”, where Blue chooses her side, Regina’s fate is explored, and the Witch’s army is defeated.
> 
> And now my questions for you: 1) Did you find the homages to a certain 1930s MGM movie in this chapter and 2) Do you think that the dagger cut Norco inflicted on Rumplestiltskin will be a problem?


	31. Toward the Sun

**_Chapter Thirty—“Toward the Sun”_ **

 

Zelena crumbled to the ground as soon as Bae pulled Excalibur out of her, limp and unmoving.  He half expected her to melt away into a green puddle, but her body remained solid, pale and unmoving, quietly breathing her last.  She looked surprisingly young, and almost innocent, without the green skin and maddened expression, but Bae couldn’t afford to feel guilty.  This woman had terrorized the Enchanted Forest since before Regina had brought most of them back from Storybrooke, had conquered countless kingdoms and enslaved tens of thousands of people.  Even if she’d only been a tool of the Black Fairy, she’d done plenty of terrible deeds, and Regina had offered her a chance to change.  Word of her refusal had reached the Dark Castle only days before, and they had chosen to begin their final offensive when Snow had forwarded the message to David. 

“At least you didn’t say something about your beautiful wickedness,” Bae said to the corpse.

“Huh?” Mulan asked, making him jump.  He hadn’t known that she’d reached his side, but Mulan had—because the battle was suddenly quiet while the creatures milled around aimlessly, obviously trying to decide if they wanted to continue fighting, and if so, who to attack. 

“Sorry.  Movie reference.” 

“If you’d just tell me—” 

“I really don’t know how to explain what a movie is, Mulan,” Bae replied.  “You could ask Leroy—oh, damn.  I’m sorry.” 

The stricken expression on Mulan’s face made his heart sink even further than his own verbal slip did.  No one knew what had actually happened to Grumpy; Mulan had seen an unidentified fae take him away, but like all the others who’d been stolen away, no one knew where he’d been taken.  Bae knew that Mulan had a vague hope that they’d find Grumpy inside the Witch’s castle when they searched it, but he was pretty sure that the fae were hiding somewhere else.  Somewhere humans couldn’t reach. 

“I know,” Mulan said quietly, squaring her shoulders and putting on a brave face.  “Let’s finish this off, shall we?  How _do_ we get these creatures to go away?” 

“That’s a really good question.”  Sooner or later, some of the dark creatures scattered around the battlefield would decide that eating the humans was a good idea, even if the Witch wasn’t there to control them.  The battle itself was dying down; Bae could see the front lines from where they were standing, and although there were a few pockets of fighting, at the moment everything seemed calmer.  But he knew that wouldn’t last.  Suddenly, he grinned.  “Let’s ask Belle.” 

Mulan had always been quick on the uptake.  “You think she and Emma got the Janus Stone?” 

“Must have, if the Witch had to control her beasts the hard way.  Let’s go find David and grab his tablet.”

 

****************

 

Blackness receded rapidly.  Despite her earlier conviction that she was fading out, Regina found that, much to her own surprise, she was still breathing.  And that the Black Fairy hadn’t sent another crushing wave of magic in her direction, either.  The Evil Queen hadn’t been able to block the last four attacks, or even able to endure them.  Her legs had finally gone out from under her when the third one hit, and the last had been the one she was sure would kill her.  Of course, she’d always been stubborn, so Regina had grabbed ahold of her own magic and held on tight, using it to shield her vital organs in a last desperate bid for survival.  That must have been why she survived that fourth attack—but where was the fifth one, the one where the Black Fairy blasted through her defenses and destroyed her forever? 

Perhaps that was for the best.  Perhaps it was time for the Evil Queen to give in—but no.  It wasn’t.  The only thing she regretted about her past actions was where they’d hurt Henry.  Other than that, she was who she was.  Regina had made her choices, and she’d long since decided to live with them and be who she’d become.  Besides, being _nicer_ wouldn’t have helped her against the Black Fairy, and it wouldn’t now, either— 

She needed to get up, but even trying to lift her head made the world spin and her vision threaten to go black again.  _Everything_ hurt, and Regina couldn’t bite back a groan of pain.  She wasn’t even sure that she could move her fingers at this point, but someone was talking— The annoying blue insect had arrived.  _Joy._

“…know I will not let you take the boy, Danns,” Regina’s least favorite fairy was saying.  Fight or not, she _still_ despised the Blue Fairy more than she did the Black.  At least the Black Fairy was honest enough to try to kill her.  The Blue Fairy was far trickier, and wanted to steal her son’s heart. 

Musical laughter answered the stubborn statement.  “And have you grown the courage to face me, sister?  To defeat me once and for all, without hiding behind the Heart of the Truest Believer?  I think not.” 

“I will do what must be done to wipe you and your evil from the face of our world.” 

“It’s never been about good and evil, Reul, and you have always known that,” the Black Fairy retorted, her voice low and reasonable—even in her half-dead state, Regina could recognize someone playing for their audience.  The Black Fairy clearly didn’t care what her sister thought of her, but she cared about what the people in the courtyard thought.  Or wanted to manipulate them, anyway.  “We are two sides of the same coin, you and I, neither fully good nor fully evil.” 

Slowly, Regina was able to turn her head without her vision graying out too much.  The Black Fairy stood only a few feet away from her prone form—that must be why Snow had such a death grip on Henry, otherwise he would have probably been by Regina’s side, a thought that warmed her erratically-beating  heart—with the Blue Fairy facing her from closer to Snow.  Blue was big, too, human sized and furious looking.  Both crackled with power, and if the Black Fairy was tired at all from her fight with Regina, it didn’t show.  Her wispy silk dress was still immaculate, and she didn’t have a hair out of place.  Regina, on the other hand, felt like she’d been run over by a Mack truck.  She was surprised there weren’t tire tracks across her chest. 

“I will stop you,” the Blue Fairy repeated stubbornly, making the other fairy laugh. 

“With what?  That boy?”  She shook her head derisively.  “You’ll not fool me twice the same way, so I defy you to try and get the Heart of the Truest Believer into my chest.  And I will remind you, _sister_ , who had to save whom the last time you got in a fight.” 

Those words made the Blue Fairy turn an interesting shade of purple, and Regina wanted to laugh.  At least it was nice to know that the fairy who had half-killed her was the more dangerous of the two.  That had to count for something. 

“Much has changed while you have been in exile,” the Blue Fairy countered, her tone lofty and superior once more, as if she hadn’t a doubt in the world.  “The world is not what it was.” 

“Oh, I know,” was the immediate response.  “And it’s going to be so much more _fun._ ” 

The ground trembled slightly before Blue got a hold of her temper; Regina tried to bite back a whimper and failed.  The numbness born of having absorbed too much magic was fading, leaving her in more and more pain.  She’d thought she hurt _before_ , but now every breath burned, and Regina wasn’t sure she could feel her limbs.  Were her fingers wiggling when she told them to?  There was no way to tell, and her vision was starting to go black at the edges again.  Desperately, exhaustedly, she reached for magic, hoping to sustain herself, but the well was empty.  The bottom was dry.  Everything hurt. 

“But—” the Black Fairy continued before Blue could find a response.  “I will leave you now.  Not out of fear of you, dear sister, but out of respect for the _old friend_ whose castle this is.  I am sure we will see one another soon.” 

She vanished in a cloud of fairy dust and silver smoke, leaving Regina to cough painfully when some of the dust made its way into her lungs.  She saw stars, and her stomach heaved madly, the magic reacting horribly with her own dried out and exhausted powers.  By the time her vision cleared, Robin was crouching by her head. When had he come outside? 

“Mom!” Henry cried, also rushing over to her.  Regina tried to smile for him and failed, groaning as Robin carefully pulled her head into his lap. 

“Regina?” the outlaw asked quietly, and she forced her eyes to focus on him with an effort.  His face was jumping up and down erratically.  “Are you all right, love?” 

“I’ll be fine,” she tried to snap, but the words came out as more of a whimper.  She needed to be strong for Henry, but she could barely feel it when her boy took her hand.  Another moment of blackness swept over her, and by the time she was able to focus again, Snow was there, too. 

_Aren’t we just a happy family?_ The moment that thought crossed her mind, Regina knew she had to be loopy.  Otherwise she’d never have thought of Snow as family.  Not ever. 

Robin, however, was having none of her lies, and he looked away from her, the concern on his face fading into anger.  It took Regina a confused second before she could follow his gaze, only to find he was glaring at the Blue Fairy.  “You have to heal her,” the outlaw said in a tone that booked no argument. 

“Have to?  Young man, I am—” 

“Supposed to be one of the good guys,” Robin cut her off harshly.  “Prove it.” 

Dizzy though she was, Regina could see the Blue Fairy glaring, and she had to admit that it was nice to have someone fighting for her.  Make that two someones—Henry spoke up before the Blue Fairy could find a way to dismiss Robin. 

“You always claim you’re on the right side,” Henry said bluntly.  “But you left my mom to fight the Black Fairy because you’ve been too cowardly to stick your neck out.  That’s not right.” 

“If you ever want us to trust you again, Blue, you need to help us now,” Snow put in, her voice soft.  Was that her holding Regina’s other hand?  The world really had changed. 

“Your Majesty, I…” 

“Please.”  Only Snow could look so regal and noble while she pleaded with someone, but Regina’s stepdaughter regularly pulled off a quiet dignity that Regina had never possessed.  “Regina needs your help.  Now.” 

There was steel behind the softly spoken last word that even Regina couldn’t miss, not even in the muddled state her mind was in.  She was starting to fade again, however, and almost missed whatever Robin put in, though she could tell from the tone that it wasn’t nearly as polite as Henry or Snow were being.  Bless the man, he was worried for her, and the rush of warmth and love that ran through her lent Regina strength. 

“…still have squid ink-tipped arrows,” Robin finished fiercely. 

“There’s no need for that,” Blue finally said.  “I will help.” 

A wand came up as the fairy knelt near Regina, and suddenly blue magic flickered entirely too close to her face.  But then everything went warm, and when she faded out this time, it was in a soft and comfortable manner.  The last thing Regina was aware of was Robin stroking her forehead tenderly while Snow and Henry held her hands.

 

****************

 

“So, why would your True Love potion be _less_ effective than someone else’s?” Ruby asked Belle in an undertone. 

“I’d expect it’s somehow tainted by the whole Dark One business,” Hook put in boldly, and then glanced a little guiltily at Belle.  “No offense, love.” 

Rumplestiltskin found it interesting, though unsurprising, that the pirate chose to address his comments to Belle rather than him; he and Hook had declared a truce of sorts, but they still didn’t make a practice of sharing civil conversations.  But he only snorted when Belle turned an innocent smile on the pirate, her hand still warm in his own: 

“No, it’s less effective on _you_ because Rumple still doesn’t like you.  I’m much more forgiving than he is, but I do understand.” 

Rumplestiltskin hid a smile by turning his head to kiss Belle’s hair.  He would probably never forget that Hook had called for Milah in his nightmares, undoubtedly warning her to run from _him._  Even when Rumplestiltskin had been the Dark One, he’d more or less regretted the uncontrollable fit of rage in which he’d murdered his wife…but now it dug in particularly deeply.  Milah had been his first love, and he’d clung desperately to their failing relationship for years before she’d run away with Hook and broken his heart.  In the intervening years, he’d clung to that heartbreak and fury without ever letting himself think of the obvious: Milah might have lied to him, but she had loved Hook.  _And Hook had loved her._   Perhaps it was time to put the hatred aside. 

“If my having been the Dark One was going to taint an act of True Love, dearie, we wouldn’t be here now,” Rumplestiltskin replied instead of rising to the bait Hook had offered.  Once, he wouldn’t have been able to resist such temptation; the darkness in him would have demanded he at least say something cutting.  But with his curse broken… 

Hook grimaced slightly, clearly catching the reference to Rumplestiltskin’s self-sacrifice in Storybrooke.  But it was Emma who saved the day, asking: 

“Speaking of you not being the Dark One and all, can you fix Ruby’s arm?” 

Next to him, Belle went rigid.  “How could I forget?” she blanched.  “Ruby got bit.” 

“By a flying monkey?” Rumplestiltskin asked, glad to turn his mind to a problem he could fix.  

“Yeah.”  The wolf-girl grimaced.  “I already shed enough during wolf’s time.  I’d hate to start molting, too.” 

Uneasy laughter rippled around the group, but Rumplestiltskin was able to smile easily. 

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”  He lifted his free hand—the one not intertwined with Belle’s fingers—and a blue glow enveloped Ruby’s bandaged left arm. The young woman jumped as his magic swept over her, knitting up the bite, removing the stained bandage, and then repairing her torn sleeve.  Rumplestiltskin healed her swollen and cut up face, too, along with her bleeding side, just for good measure.  Hook had inadvertently done a number on her, and she was Belle’s friend. 

“Is that it?” Ruby asked, lifting her arm to stare at the now-intact sleeve with wide eyes.  “I won’t turn into a monkey?” 

He smiled slightly. “I shouldn’t think that would be a problem.  Generally speaking, the human body can only play host to one dark creature at a time.  Your original, uh, condition would have taken precedence, anyway, but I did remove the monkey’s venom.  Just in case.” 

“At what price?” 

A chuckle escaped before he could contain it, but at least the laugh disguised the fact that Rumplestiltskin hadn’t even thought aboutdemanding a price for healing her.  That realization made something inside him twist uncomfortably.  “This one’s on the house.” 

“Thanks,” Ruby replied with a glance at Belle, who just nodded to reassure her friend.  Emma, however, eyed him suspiciously. 

“Regina’s finally pounded this magic thing into me,” she said dubiously.  “And now I know that you’ve never said that ‘all magic comes with a price’ crap for fun.  So, who are you doing to dump the cost of this one on?” 

“You know just enough to be dangerous, Miss Swan,” Rumplestiltskin replied with a smile that tried to hide his own unease.  But Belle squeezed his hand, and it was time for a little more uncomfortable honesty.  He _wasn’t_ the Dark One any longer, and couldn’t afford to act like it.  “My magic comes with a price you cannot pay.  Or that you already have, as the case may be.” 

Perhaps things would be different when the war ended, when the nature of magic itself was not so in flux.  But this power he’d inherited still demanded that Rumplestiltskin live up to the role it remembered Merlin filling: the peacekeeper, the original power, the lonely sorcerer on the hilltop who did the right thing.  Rumplestiltskin was no Merlin to be comfortable with watching his magic work without consciously counting and balancing the cost, but the scales of power remained undisturbed when he’d healed Ruby. 

“I don’t—” Emma started to say, but was interrupted by a sudden vibration from the pouch on her right hip. She pulled the tablet out, read it, and scowled.  “Damn.  David says the Witch’s army is going crazy, and he wants to know if we can bring the Janus Stone there.” 

“All you had to do was ask.”  At least _that_ was magic that did not leave left him conflicted.  Rumplestiltskin raised a hand, twitched his fingers, and power _pulled_.

 

****************

 

“Will she be all right?” Henry asked Snow quietly, looking so young and lost.  Snow squeezed his shoulders again, standing behind him as they watched the Blue Fairy bend over Regina.  They’d moved the Evil Queen into the great hall of the castle after the Black Fairy had finally left—Robin had insisted upon carrying her—and now they all gathered around, watching helplessly. 

“I’m sure she will,” Snow replied, sounding much more optimistic than she felt. 

“Blue knows what she’s doing,” Tinker Bell spoke up, smiling down at Henry.  “She really is the best at this.” 

Henry scowled.  “I’d rather have Grandpa Gold fix her, and I bet Mom would, too.” 

“Henry!”  But Snow barely held back an unladylike snort of laughter.  _I bet Regina_ would _prefer to have Rumplestiltskin heal her_ , she thought with amusement that faded when she looked at her stepmother’s bloodless face.  She’d never expected to be so worried about Regina.  They really had come a long way since the days when they’d gone to war over a kingdom and Snow had regretted stopping her execution. 

“What? It’s true,” her grandson (or adopted stepbrother; wasn’t that odd?) insisted, and Snow could only smile sadly at him. 

“Regina’s strong,” she said softly but fiercely.  “She didn’t fight so hard to die now.”

 

****************

They arrived in a swirl of golden smoke.  Rumplestiltskin had always enjoyed leaving people guessing while choosing the colors of his magic in the past, and not being the Dark One gave him no reason to change that habit.  Most people got stuck in a single color, but he’d never appreciated being so limited or so predictable, which meant he’d explored a virtual rainbow of magic over the centuries.  Now even more was at his fingertips, and he’d decided that he rather enjoyed the symmetry of using the color associated with the name Regina’s curse had given him.  Gold was a color that was neither pure light nor toxic darkness, just as he split the difference between the two types of magic.  It fit. 

“You called, dearie?” he asked as Charming jumped slightly. 

“Actually, I did,” another voice answered, and Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help smiling as he turned to face his son.  Interestingly enough, Baelfire held Excalibur in his hands, but that was a question for another time.  “I take it you got the Stone?” 

“Now whatever gives you that idea?” Rumplestiltskin couldn’t resist teasing Bae a little, and wasn’t that extraordinary?  Not too long before Regina’s reversal of her curse had destroyed Storybrooke, Rumplestiltskin could never have imagined that his relationship with his son could be so far repaired.  In some ways, they were much like they’d been, so very many years ago, before he’d taken on his old curse.  They were both different—so different—but the underlying love was the same. 

“Probably because you’re _really_ bad at failure,” his son retorted. 

“Hey now,” Emma put in with a grin.  “Give credit where it’s due.  Your dad just showed up in time to save Hook’s life.  _We_ did the stone theft-ing.” 

“Saving Hook’s life?  Are you okay, Pop?” Bae shot his way immediately. 

His own smile turned lopsided. “Probably not.” 

Even Hook chuckled at that quip, and the others laughed, too.  David, however, interjected as Emma moved over to Bae’s side, looking at Rumplestiltskin’s son in a way that Rumplestiltskin had never seen her look at any man.  _Oh, dear…_ Had he missed that development? 

“So, joking aside, can we do something about this mess of creatures?  They’re mostly milling around right now, but every now and then one of the ogres decides it’s time to start _eating_ people, and that tends to get messy,” the king put in. 

“Sorry.” Emma looked embarrassed for a moment, and then a frown took over her expression.  “So, I’m going to guess that the Witch ran away again?” 

“Not exactly,” Bae answered her, wearing a lopsided smile that Rumplestiltskin knew too well—and one that made his eyes flick to Excalibur.  Sure enough, there was blood on the blade. 

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” Hook demanded before Rumplestiltskin could start laughing.  

_Oh, Zelena.  For all your posturing about power and your grand revenge, you never expected to be killed by someone who’s never had any interest in magic, did you?_   His old student would have hated such an inglorious end with every fiber of her being, but it was somehow fitting. 

Bae shrugged.  “Ding dong the Witch is dead?” 

Emma, Belle, and David both snorted out laughter, and even Rumplestiltskin smiled at the quip.  Hook looked confused—he was the only one with no memories from the Land Without Magic—but he at least shrugged with relief.  After a moment, Bae continued: 

“Turns out that you were right, Pop.  Excalibur did the job nicely.”  He offered the sword back to David, who hesitated for a moment before taking it.  “Thanks for the load, David.” 

The king smiled.  “Any time.  Now—about those creatures.  I assume that we _can_ stop them now that the Witch is dead?” 

“Good idea,” Emma said, and then turned to the brunette to Rumplestiltskin’s right.  “Do you know how to work that thing?” 

“I know in theory, but…” As she spoke, Belle pulled the Janus Stone out of her pocket, cupping the glowing red gem in her hands.  Rumplestiltskin had felt its presence all along, though now that he saw the stone for the very first time, he realized that it was far smaller than he’d expected.  “Rumple?” 

Rumplestiltskin almost reached out to take the stone as invited, but stopped himself.  He’d always been a bit of a magpie where magical objects were concerned—and he had no intention of doing anything foolish like throwing the Janus Stone away—but that didn’t mean that _he_ had to control this one personally.  Not right now.  So he gave Belle a reassuring smile.  “Go ahead.” 

“Me?” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m no magic user,” Belle objected.  “I’m just…me.” 

“What you are,” he leaned in close to say softly, “is extraordinary.  And you’re one of the strongest people I’ve met in my long and colorful life.  You don’t need magic to control the Janus Stone, Belle. Just willpower.  And you have that to spare.” 

Shining blue eyes looked up at him, and Rumplestiltskin knew he’d done the right thing.  “What do I do?” 

“Just focus on the Stone.”  Rumplestiltskin stepped behind her as Belle looked down to do just that, touching her elbows gently.  Belle held the glowing gem in both hands, and he just tucked his chin onto her shoulder to watch.  “Tell it what you want, and the Stone’s magic will do the rest.” 

“Really?  That’s all?” he heard Emma’s voice echo, but Rumplestiltskin ignored her, his attention on Belle. 

For several long moments, nothing happened.   The hodgepodge assortment of magical creatures just kept milling around on the plain, boxed in by the army and sometimes attacking one another at random.  Most seemed confused, or at least a little lost, with no coherent force binding them together.  The ogres were the worst of the bunch, of course—none of the five Ogre Wars had been caused by someone using the Janus Stone; the ogres had done that themselves—bashing at one another with clubs or targeting random creatures or people just for the fun of it.  Ogres weren’t very smart, but they were damn dangerous, and there were at least a dozen of them down there. 

Then his spine tingled, and Rumplestiltskin felt power sweep out.  Her back firmly against his front, Belle trembled slightly, but more from surprise than anything else, and Rumplestiltskin just tightened his hands on her elbows reassuringly.  He could _feel_ the magic working with her, _for_ her, and could see the tendrils of glowing red light working their way out from the Stone.  None of the others could—Emma should have, but typically, she wasn’t looking—but Rumplestiltskin watched as the power of the Janus Stone arched out to cover the creatures Zelena had assembled to fight for her.  Small threads of magic spiraled off of the larger tendrils, one heading for each of the creatures…and then, suddenly, there was a flash of blinding red light. 

The others yelped and looked away; Rumplestiltskin, having known it was coming, did not, and he was able to watch the old tendrils of magic surrounding Zelena’s army disintegrate.  The new power, _Belle’s_ power, sank in with the flash, and suddenly the ogres stopped fighting with one another.  One by one, the creatures stopped aimlessly milling about, waking up from what looked to be a long slumber.  Then one by one, they vanished, leaving only a few dozen flying monkeys to stand looking lost and confused. 

“Can I free the monkeys?” Belle asked softly, pausing to look up at him.  Her eyes were shining. 

“Not with the Stone, no.  It’s never controlled them.  That’s all Zelena’s magic,” he replied, and watched her face fall a little.  “But I can.” 

“What did you do?” Bae asked Belle as Rumplestiltskin’s right hand came up. 

“I told them to go home,” she answered simply, and he paused to smile at her.  That was such an elegantly simple solution…and one he’d never have thought of.  Of course the Stone had taken care of that. 

“Home,” Charming mused.  “That’s a powerful motivator.” 

“Indeed it is,” Rumplestiltskin said softly, and felt Belle twist to look up at him as he gathered magic to himself.  

He’d spent the odd hour or two studying the spell Zelena had used to turn humans into flying monkeys once they’d discovered it back at King Stefan’s castle.  Though the castle had been destroyed in that fae’s attack—Rumplestiltskin still wished he’d known her name, because he had a few interesting curses in mind for her—he’d been able to recreate the magic work in his mind and deconstruct it in his off time.  The same knowledge had aided him in making sure Ruby wouldn’t turn into a monkey, but this was the moment he’d been waiting to arrive.  The required spell had been stored in the back of his mind, waiting for this day.  Now Rumplestiltskin just had to see if he had the power to pull it off. 

Power swept up around him, a gentle breeze that grew warmer by the moment.  This wasn’t dark magic, not his old forte.  No, it was something far lighter, far _better_.  Ironically, it was something Merlin would happily have chosen to do, showy execution and all—but if he kept thinking like that, the odd streak of spite inside Rumplestiltskin would probably keep him from casting the spell at all.  

He let out a long breath, felt Belle still leaning against him, felt the tendrils of power his spell had sent out, watching them turn gold then white and then gold again, each reaching for one of the many monkeys standing lonely and confused on the plain.  Other tendrils vanished into the air, seeking out monkeys Zelena had left elsewhere.  He _felt_ them make contact, felt the spell expanding to reach to all corners of the Enchanted Forest, and then a golden mist rose, seemingly from the ground but really reaching out from the fabric of their world itself.  After all, magic was not simply a force that a lucky few could manipulate, not in the Enchanted Forest.  Their world bore its name for a reason, and Rumplestiltskin’s power was able to reach into the very heart of that magic to deconstruct one of the cruelest individual enchantments he had ever encountered. 

The others could see the magic, now, and it was no wonder.  Zelena’s spell was incredibly powerful and incredibly dark.  Anything that morphed a man into a winged creature bound to a sorceress’ will _had_ to be potently evil.  In this case, the magic had been fueled by Zelena’s heartbreak, envy, and rage, and although she was dead, the power of the spell held.  Stories aside, the darkest magics were the least likely to fail when their caster died, and the spells binding the flying monkeys were certainly powerful enough to stick for another decade or so before they decayed.  Needless to say, none of them could afford to let that happen.  Even at his worst, Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t have wanted to leave them lying around for the next evil sorcerer to pick up. 

The golden mist intensified briefly, clumping around the now-frightened monkeys.  Rumplestiltskin could hear their squeals of terror, and several tried to fly away, only to find that the mist made their wings heavier than usual and to fall back to the ground before making it very far.  As they did so, a green mist started oozing out of each creature, and one by one, their faces started to change.  The monkeys were vacillating between human and primate by the time the two mists met.  The green magic seemed to shy away from Rumplestiltskin’s power—his hand was still held, rock steady and palm out, in that direction—but the golden mist overtook the green anyway, and the two combined in a blinding flash of blue light. 

Rumplestiltskin could follow the lightning-fast transformation, although he knew the others could not.  Emma had the power but not the experience to do so, and even Belle had hidden her face in his shoulder when the glow had grown too strong.  Several soldiers had dropped to the ground for protection, shouting out oaths to whatever deities they believed might shield them.  But it only lasted ten seconds or so, and when the magic passed, there were dozens of humans were monkeys had once been. 

“How did you _do_ that?” Emma demanded as Belle squeezed his arm.  Her smile, and Bae’s, were well worth the sudden tug of tiredness Rumplestiltskin felt dragging him down, and—

That wasn’t exhaustion.  That was the price of this magic, dropping on him without warning. 

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, tuning the others out, even Bae and Belle.  This was what he had to be.  This was the price.  The end of the war wouldn’t change it, and there was no going back, now.  This was _forever_ , and that was suddenly terrifying.  How was he supposed to fill the shoes of a man who had been so much better than Rumplestiltskin had ever dreamed of being?  Merlin had once been called pure of heart and true of soul.  Rumplestiltskin was neither.  He’d never looked at his own heart, but Rumplestiltskin knew it would be black and scarred by what he had done over his three centuries of life.  His soul was irrevocably stained by who he had been, so how was he supposed to be _this_? 

Still, the magic demanded it, and this magic owned his soul as thoroughly as the Dark One’s curse ever had.  Yes, it was a kinder master, but the pull was still there.  A voice in the back of his head, almost but never forgotten, whispered that this was _right_ and necessary and even _good_ —but Rumplestiltskin’s own moral compass had been abandoned so long ago that those words meant nothing to him.  _This is what you are._  

The sudden pressure made his eyes open, made him scowl.  Rage rose to meet the insistent price, fast and strong.  What had he once told Belle this was?  Darkness and light, in equal measure.  _That_ he could be.  Not some paragon of goodness.  They always failed to live up to their own lofty aspirations in the end.  Rumplestiltskin was not such a hypocrite.  And he was no dead man’s puppet. 

_I will do this on my terms or not at all,_ he vowed silently…and after a long moment, he felt the pressure recede. 

“Rumple?” Belle asked for the second time.  He’d not heard the first.  “Are you all right?” 

Shaking himself, he turned to look at her, wiping the blank expression off of his face.  “I am,” he said with a surprisingly easy smile.  “Indeed I am.”

 

****************

**_  
_ **

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments you’ve been posting! I always love to hear from readers, and every review I get makes my day.
> 
> Next up is Chapter 31: “At All Costs”, in which the Black Fairy plots her next move, her sister is difficult, Henry is observant, and the dagger wound in Rumplestiltskin’s side makes an appearance.
> 
> Please do let me know what you think! What do you think of Snow and Regina working as a team, and do you think Emma’s going to keep developing her magical talents?


	32. At All Costs

**_Chapter Thirty-One—“At All Costs”_ **

 

“Are there tire tracks on me?” Regina asked tiredly after Robin lowered her into her own bed.  Every bone in her body still ached, and just looking at her bruised arms made her head hurt.  The infernal blue bug had healed her—and wasn’t _that_ insulting—but Regina still felt terrible. 

“Tire tracks?” Robin looked puzzled.  “Is that another Storybrooke reference, love?” 

Regina grimaced. “Nevermind.”  Oh, her head was spinning, but that was Henry bouncing onto the bed next to her, and hugging her tight, and suddenly it didn’t matter how much it hurt. 

“Careful, Henry—” Snow tried to warn him, probably seeing when Regina winced in pain, but she waved her stepdaughter/son’s grandmother off.  

“It’s fine.”  _I thought I was going to die for him.  Of course he can hug me!_   Regina even scraped up a smile for Henry, who looked so much like the little boy he’d once been that it made her heart clench when he pulled back.  How was it that worry could make a child look so much younger? 

“You saved us, Mom,” Henry beamed. 

“Of course I did.”  Despite her resolve to look fine, Regina coughed.  “I wasn’t letting any fairy take my son.” 

If her eyes found the Blue Fairy, who was still standing near the doorway, having not heard the subtle invitation to leave that Robin had offered when he’d picked Regina up to carry her out of the great hall, well, that wasn’t an accident.  Gratitude for the Blue Fairy healing her—fine, saving her life—wasn’t enough to make Regina let her take Henry away. 

“No one is,” Snow put in, surprisingly firmly, and now _she_ was looking at Blue. 

_We really do make a great team, don’t we?  Too bad I didn’t figure this out years ago_ , Regina thought dizzily.  But it had to be the head pain making her think things like that.   She’d certainly never say such things aloud. 

“Snow, I understand your worry for your grandson, but you _must_ see that he is in danger here,” the fairy replied immediately.  “The Black Fairy will not stop until she has him under her control, because she knows what a threat he is to her.” 

“And whose fault is that?” Snow demanded before Regina could get in.  “If _you_ weren’t determined to use Henry’s heart to control her, would the Black Fairy even care about him?” 

“The Heart of the Truest Believer—” 

“Can control an original power, yes, we know,” Regina cut her off, struggling to sit up.   

“Regina, love, you shouldn’t…” Robin started, only to stop when she glared at him.  “Fine then.  Let me help you.” 

“I don’t _need_ help,” she snapped, but accepted it anyway.  Just because it was Robin.  And because the pillows he propped up behind her really were very comfortable.  Then she returned her fury to the Blue Fairy, a much more satisfying target for her ire.  “As I was saying, at this point, I can’t really blame her if she wants to control _you._   How long did you have her in exile for, anyway?” 

“Not long enough, as you will shortly see,” Blue retorted stiffly.  “You may not like me, Queen Regina—and the rest of you may deplore my methods—but I have done what must be done in order to keep our entire _world_ safe.  My sister’s actions will undoubtedly prove that to you before long if she is allowed to run unchecked.” 

“What, like you are?” Regina countered. 

“Under no circumstances are you getting Henry’s heart,” Snow picked up the fight again.  “Now, are you willing to fight with us, or are you going to be our enemy?” 

“I am not your enemy, Snow. I never have been.”  Blue could look really earnest.  Regina had to give her that. 

“Why did you exile her, anyway?” Henry asked suddenly, still sitting at Regina’s side. 

“Her evil—” 

“Like what?” Henry pressed, and Regina didn’t even try to hide her smile.  Henry had always been brilliant, and she was so proud of him that it hurt. 

Or maybe that was just her ribs aching from that last blast of magic.  _Ouch._  

“You would not understand, child,” Blue said loftily. 

“Oh, great.  So, you want my heart, but you’re not willing to explain to me why your sister’s so evil.  This really sounds like a killer sibling rivalry, you know,” he retorted, and Regina snorted with laughter when Blue went white. 

“The lad’s got a point,” Robin joined in, and Regina had to smile at him.  First he threatened the Blue Fairy for her, and now he was backing her son up.  She really had found herself a good man, even if she had complained about his forest smell in the beginning. 

The Blue Fairy drew herself up proudly, and for a moment Regina thought she was actually going to storm out.  Had she done so, the Evil Queen might have respected the fairy a little bit more, but instead Blue continued to argue.  “I will not detail events for you that happened over a thousand years before the births of any of you,” she replied imperiously.  “Any fairy can tell you of the evil my sister has wrought, but if you require an example, the creation of the first Dark One should be ample evidence that she has no one’s best interests in mind.  _She_ _must be stopped._ ” 

“No one’s disagreeing with you on that,” Snow pointed out.  “We just don’t approve of your methods.”

 

****************

 

“So, your first castle, huh?” Neal asked her with a grin as they stood on in the throne room. 

“Not quite.”  Emma shrugged.  “But I’ll admit that the first one was kind of run down.  I did get to see my nursery in it, so it might be a draw.  That, and you know, I’ve been living in the Dark Castle for months.  Just like you.” 

But she said the words teasingly, smiling at her…well, whatever he was.  Neal’s sense of humor had never been terribly smooth, but he was always genuine, and he was always fun.  Maybe that was what she liked about him—Neal was terrible at lying, and he usually wore his heart on his sleeve.  He wasn’t suave, he wasn’t silver-tongued, and he wasn’t the sort of man Emma had ever imagined staying with.  Yet she’d chosen him twice now, warts and all, and foolish comments like that weren’t going to chase her away. 

“Oh.  Yeah.  Oops.”  His grin was infectious, and Emma found herself laughing with him.  “Guess I forgot about that.” 

“Well, to be fair to you, I think my family does own this one,” she pointed out.  “Or Regina does.  These politics are so damn confusing.” 

“I hear you,” he said with feeling.  “But at least we’ve got the castle back, right?  And I think this means we’ve actually won the war.” 

Emma strode over to look at a bookshelf, feeling strangely at ease.  She’d never even been here before, but somehow places like this were becoming familiar.  Did that say something about how Emma had grown in the last few months, or was that just the company she was keeping?  It was all so crazy.  A few months ago, she’d been a bail bondsperson living in New York City.  Now she was a princess, dating a knight.  _Dating?_   Was that what they were doing?  Emma had no idea how to define their relationship, particularly not in Enchanted Forest terms. 

“So…what now?” she asked after a moment. 

“Hell if I know.  Maybe we’ll get some peace?” 

Emma turned to smile at him, and the relaxed expression still felt a little strange on her face.  Part of Emma was still so used to conflict, even after the year of sort-of peace in New York.  Every moment she’d spent in this world or in Storybrooke had been spent fighting to break a curse or to reunite her family, and she almost didn’t know what to do with anything else. “That’d be nice.” 

“You gonna stay here?” Neal asked after a moment, sounding nervous. 

“In this castle?” she asked dumbly. 

“In the Enchanted Forest.” 

“Oh.”  Emma felt like a fool, and she felt her heart clench.  Her instinct was to respond vaguely, to delay and avoid answering the question head on.  Emma was straightforward by nature, but she also was cautious about commitment.  And yet—she’d promised herself that she’d grab a hold of this moment with both hands and never let go.   “Yeah.  I figured I might, anyway.” 

“Really?” Neal gaped. 

The look on his face made every bit of heartache from the last twelve years worth it, somehow.  Perhaps fighting for love really _did_ make it stronger. 

Emma smiled.  “Really.  I…want this, Neal.  I want _us._   Us, and Henry, and all the complicated things that make our families _ours._   The thought of going back to New York at this point would just be boring.  And I want more than boring.” 

“You don’t worry that the war ending will make things boring, then?” Neal teased her, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“I’m sure that you’ll find _some_ way to keep me entertained.”  And no, Neal might not have been a super suave romance novel hero, but he wasn’t a fool, either.  In fact, he was pretty damn smart, and he certainly caught the hint she was throwing her way. 

He arched an eyebrow at her suggestively.  “Well, are you up for some exploration?” 

“You bet I am.”

 

****************

 

“He has the dagger, my lady,” Norco said quietly, watching the Fae Queen’s face carefully.  Her expression never changed, but he could see the angry tick in her right eye.  Danns always had that tick after facing off with her sister.  Ruel had always frustrated her, and to be so close to keeping her freedom, only to have Ruel steal the moment away, obviously burned.  Norco knew little about the sisters’ encounter at the Dark Castle, but it was obvious that Ruel’s arrival had denied Danns the opportunity to fetch the Truest Believer.  

“You fool.”  

Her voice was flat, and yet for once there was not a trace of affection in Danns’ tone.  It stung, and Norco sat back in his chair to stare at her.  Yes, now there _was_ a glimmer of anger in her eyes, and the anger was at _him._   This was not a feeling to which Norco was accustomed; he had always been Danns’ favorite, going all the way back to the original wars for magic.  Seeing her disappointed was…unnerving. 

“You can summon it back,” he pointed out, a bit stiffly. 

Danns’ head finally whipped around to look at him.  “I could summon it from _the Dark One,_ ” she hissed.  “Not _Merlin._   He will know, and he will prevent me.  And without that dagger, I cannot recreate the curse inside him.” 

“I thought you were considering not doing so.”  Norco’s breath caught in his throat, remembering his own duel with the man who might indeed be Merlin.  Being defeated in that manner was not an experience upon which he preferred to dwell.  In fact, he preferred to soothe his bruised ego with thoughts of the ways in which he could make the sorcerer regret his mocking victory.  But if Danns wanted to ally with the human, Norco could do nothing. 

Danns’ a'Bhàis  was not the type to vent her fury upon her most loyal followers—she had other toys for such pursuits— but she was also not one to forget a failure.  This was not the first time Norco had ever failed her, although it might prove to be the most dangerous.  He knew that she would never harm him, not after so many years together, but she _was_ still angry.  At him.  And that only stoked his fury.  Yet even as his own anger bubbled hotter, Norco watched his mistress’ temper abate.  She would save her wrath, he knew.  Bottle it up until it became useful, until she could strike with cold precision that would only feed the boiling rage of her magic once it was unleashed.  Such was her way, and he admired her for it. 

She waited a long moment before answering:  “It depends upon which one is in control.  Your thoughts?” 

“I cannot tell if they are working together or if they are battling for control,” Norco answered honestly.  Only a fool would lie to his Lady, and a fool he was not.  “There were moments I believe I recognized Merlin, and his power was certainly at work.  Yet I also broke through to Rumplestiltskin at least once.  Merlin has not yet banished him entirely.  Perhaps he cannot?” 

“Hm.”  She folded her hands primly, and magic swept around the room they occupied.  Slowly, the furnishings changed from dark red replacing the blue hue, still with a silver and black overlay.  The chair Danns occupied shifted to a luxurious chaise lounge, and her furious demeanor relaxed as she leaned back comfortably.  “What were your other impressions?” 

“The skill must belong to Merlin,” he said immediately.  “No Dark One has ever acquired such learning.” 

“Rumplestiltskin _has_ survived longer than any other,” she pointed out, her voice almost a purr. 

“He was still only the Dark One,” Norco dismissed her point with a wave of one hand. 

“True enough.”  Though there was an edge in Danns voice that Norco had not expected, and he resisted the scowl that wanted to rise.  

The day Merlin had succumbed to Danns’ curse had the best day of Norco’s long life.  Given that he was nearly as old as magic, that was a spectacular distinction—but watching the human sorcerer break had been _beautiful._   In one fell swoop, Merlin’s defeat had cleared the way for Danns to win the ongoing war between herself and her sister _and_ removed Norco’s rival for her affections.  From there on out, Merlin had merely been a tool for her, and although she’d _used_ successive Dark Ones in her various ways, Norco had become her closest confidant once Merlin was out of the way. 

Frankly, he would prefer that Merlin _remain_ banished instead of allowing the old man to inhabit the body of the last Dark One.  Failing that, Norco was a strong advocate of Danns’ original intention to recreate the curse within him—after all, doing so might bury Merlin entirely and leave them with only Rumplestiltskin.  And even if it did not, Merlin would be chained by the same magic and same restrictions as the other eighteen Dark Ones had been, even if he did regain some of the sense of self that Danns had destroyed during the creation of that curse.  He had told her as much, and cited many logical reasons to explain why Merlin’s powers _needed_ to be harnessed.  Danns could not afford to have the wildcard peacemaker wandering about of his own free will, not when she had finally broken out of her exile and was on equal terms with her sister.

The truth, however, was that Norco did not appreciate competition.  The best case scenario was Rumplestiltskin as the Dark One once more, with Merlin forever buried.  Danns had not forgotten how she felt about Merlin, he knew, and Norco meant to protect his position as her favorite.  At all costs. 

Careful to control his expression, he offered: “He bade me deliver a message to you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Something about not harming those under his protection,” Norco replied flippantly; really, that had been something terribly foolish and so _Merlin_ that it made him sick.  The rest, however, had been far more interesting.  “And also that he makes a very bad enemy, but a much better friend.” 

The Black Fairy sat up straight, her relaxed sprawl forgotten.  Hazel eyes turned intense.  “Did he now?” 

Norco really didn’t like the sudden interest in her gaze.  

“Yes.” He would not lie to her; no matter where Danns affections lay, he would always be loyal to her.  

“Well, then,” she purred, and suddenly the dangerous edge was back, the one he utterly worshiped.  “Then we shall have to offer him our friendship.” 

Norco felt a return smile tugging on his face.  _Oh, this is going to be glorious!_ Clearly there was enough of Rumplestiltskin still within Merlin to be frightened—he’d seen that look in the sorcerer’s eyes when he’d taunted him during their battle.  And that meant that Merlin probably had no idea what Danns’ _friendship_ could entail.  She was not the sort to accept anything but a full alliance from a _friend_ , and that meant that Merlin—or Rumplestiltskin—had inadvertently offered himself.  His full self.  Danns would certainly interpret it that way, Norco knew, and she would be furious if Merlin attempted to offer anything less than the keys to his soul.

The stubborn fool probably would make that mistake, too, and that knowledge only made Norco’s smile grow.  _Then_ Danns’ fury would demand she remake the curse of the Dark One, and force Merlin into being her unwilling servant once more.  And while Norco knew better than anyone that a servant could still be a favorite, the rage and darkness simmering within that curse meant that a mere Dark One would never be Danns’ equal.  

That was, he reflected, a near perfect solution to his own problem.  Merlin had started playing a game that he _should_ have remembered the rules to and did not.  _Be it on his own head.  Let him think he can threaten me_.  _In the end, he’ll still be Danns’ slave, while I remain her favorite._ So it was with a light step that Norco headed to his own chambers, ready to enjoy playing with _his_ current toy.  The dwarf had proven more amusing than he had expected, after all, and Norco deserved a treat.

 

****************

 

Henry’s heart rate had finally calmed down to something approaching normal.  If watching his mother face off against the Black Fairy wasn’t one of the most terrifying moments of his life, Henry wasn’t sure what had been worse.  Even watching one of his grandfathers kill Pan hadn’t been quite so bad—that had happened so fast that Henry barely had a chance to register what was happening.  The battle between Regina and the Black Fairy had been much longer, however, and gave Henry plenty of time to face the fact that he might just be losing Regina all over again…and that if he did, he might wind up as nothing but some vessel for a heart that the Black Fairy needed. 

But Regina had saved him.  She’d almost died doing it—and thinking of that just made him hold her hand even harder—but she’d held off the Black Fairy until Blue could arrive.  And part of Henry really did see why Blue was so determined to stop her sister.  The Black Fairy oozed power and danger, and he’d been dead certain that she was going to win.  _But Grandpa Gold is right.  Even if I gave Blue my heart, how would she get it into the other fairy?_ Henry felt guilty for the relief that coursed through him at that thought.  He didn’t _want_ to give up his heart, not after what had happened last time.  He wanted to live a normal life with his family, abnormal as his family was. 

Particularly since his parents—well, Emma and his father, anyway—seemed to be trying to get back together.  Henry had walked in on them one morning in his dad’s rooms at the Dark Castle and had run out again before he could decide how much clothing they _weren’t_ wearing under the covers, but he was still really happy to see them giving it a go.  He’d been really excited when they weren’t to the Christening together, but that was even better.  Between that and Regina and Robin, Henry’s confused family only seemed to be growing, and he couldn’t be happier. 

Well.  Having the most powerful beings in the entire world _not_ being after his heart would have made things a lot better.  Particularly when the Blue Fairy was only glaring at his grandmother stubbornly.  “There is only _one_ way to stop her,” Blue said, obviously growing angry. 

“Find another,” Snow retorted. 

“If there were another, don’t you think I would have found it by now?” the fairy countered.  

“No.  I don’t think you would,” a new voice put in, and Henry’s head snapped around to watch his paternal grandfather stride into the room with Belle on his heels.  Rumplestiltskin’s expression was sharp—as it usually was when he and Blue were anywhere even remotely near one another—but his eyes were darker and more dangerous than Henry was used to seeing them. 

The fairy stiffened.  “You know nothing.” 

“My dear Ruel Ghorm, I know far more than you would like me to,” the sorcerer replied with a chuckle.  The smile he flashed her was nowhere near kind.  “I did tell you that I inherited Merlin’s memories along with those of my other predecessors, did I not?” A slender finger pointed at her.  “And I remember how you trapped her, who helped you.  You’ll not have that advantage now.” 

“Are you saying that you would refuse to do your part?” 

“ _My_ part?  The fact that one of my predecessors helped you trap her leaves me with no obligation to do so.  I also seem to recall you betraying _him_ in turn and handing the dagger off to some petty king or another, after you had promised to free him.” 

Blue scowled.  “You of all people should know that power required controlling.”  Her next words, however, seemed to escape before she could stop them: “You were never like your predecessors.” 

Henry couldn’t figure out if that last bit was supposed to be an insult or a compliment.  It sounded like both.  Rumplestiltskin seemed to take it as neither and only quirked a  noncommittal smile.  Belle, however, seemed annoyed. 

“You never have understood that, have you?” she asked, as if it was part of an ongoing argument.  Blue glared back, but Rumplestiltskin shrugged. 

“No, I never have been.” Henry seemed to be the only one who noticed how the dragonhide coat stuck to his side as he stepped further into the room, removing a dagger from someplace inside the coat and pulling out a wavy-bladed dagger.  There was blood on the blade, smeared and half-dried.  “Nor will I ever be.” 

That comment only made the Blue Fairy’s scowl deepen.  Henry had his own theories about why Blue wasn’t happy that his grandfather’s curse was broken, but most of them revolved around the fact that it meant Rumplestiltskin could no longer be controlled.  The legendary dagger was blank, now; Henry’d been able to see both sides of it before Rumplestiltskin put it down on a nearby table, almost as if he was daring someone to try to take it.  But no one so much as twitched in that direction, even Blue.  She only stared at the dagger for a long moment, silent until Rumplestiltskin spoke up once more, his voice soft and threatening. 

“I have already told you what will happen if you try to take my grandson’s heart.  Have you forgotten already?” 

“I came here to _help_ , not to take Henry away,” Blue snapped.  

“Good.  Apparently you _can_ learn something, after all.” 

“And apparently _you_ cannot.”  The fairy’s chin came up, and there was something she was hinting at that Henry was missing.  Why was no one else interjecting in this conversation?  Henry could sense the dangerous undercurrents swirling around them, and actually thought he could feel a strain in the very magic surrounding both his grandfather and Blue.  Did the other adults _want_ this to turn into a fight? 

Regina might, but Snow knew that they needed Blue.  Didn’t she? 

“The alliance you are building is doomed to failure without the fairies,” Blue continued.  “Do you think humanity can defeat the fae without us?” 

“Do you dare find out?” Regina spoke up from the bed for the first time, and Henry twisted to look at his mother.  “Because then people might realize they don’t _need_ you, and then where would you be?” 

Blue looked at her like she was a child younger than Henry, which made him bristle.  “The fairies will always be needed.” 

“Not if you bow out now, you won’t.” 

“We’ve had this discussion already,” Rumplestiltskin cut back in.  “Pick a side, dearie, or leave the dance.” 

“You’re starting to sound like her,” was the soft response, suddenly dangerous.  Threatening?  “This is not over.” 

“Give me a break,” Henry’s adopted mother snapped.  “Of course it isn’t.  It never is.  Particularly with you.” 

Rumplestiltskin only smiled, but the Blue Fairy departed in a flurry of fairy dust and grace, somehow managing to look like she thought she’d won.  Watching her look like that made a funny feeling rise in Henry’s stomach; he wasn’t exactly _afraid_ of her, but he was worried that she had something else up her sleeve.  Who would have thought that Pan wanting his heart would eventually seem so minor?  As long as Blue wanted it, the Black Fairy would want it, too, and that meant Henry’s life was probably _never_ going to be normal.  Not as long as he lived. 

“I hear you had an interesting afternoon,” his grandfather said mildly.  Predictably, it got under his mother’s skin.  

“Your timing is as lousy as usual,” she snapped back.  “You couldn’t have gotten here when the _other_ fairy was here?  Now I owe my life to that bug.” 

Rumplestiltskin chuckled.  “I’m sure you’ll survive the experience.” 

“How kind of you.” 

But Henry could tell that they were only sniping at one another as per usual; there was no venom in the words, and both looked tired.  He understood why Regina looked so out of it, but was with Rumplestiltskin? 

“What happened to your side, Grandpa?” he asked curiously. 

“A minor run in with a fae.”  He shrugged casually, but Henry thought he spotted a slight wince as he moved.  “Worth the trouble.” 

“And you couldn’t have mentioned this sooner?” Belle immediately moved to his right side, shoving the coat away so she could look at the wound.  

Rumplestiltskin sucked in a quick breath, flinching in pain, and even from where Henry sat on the bed next to Regina, the still-bleeding wound looked _horrible._   Henry saw a bit of it through his grandfather’s torn vest and shirt, and although his blood looked red and normal enough, the wound itself was a black and purple and a mess.  It looked like an infection run wild, and Henry couldn’t contain his curiosity.  So, he hopped off the bed and went over to join them.  

“Can I help?” 

“There’s nothing to be done for it,” Rumplestiltskin said before Belle could answer, earning himself a fearsome scowl from her.  “It wasn’t worth mentioning.” 

“Rumple, I love you, but you have to be the dumbest man alive.”  Belle rolled her eyes, and Henry snickered at the offended look on his grandfather’s face.  Snow looked a little shocked to hear someone say that to Rumplestiltskin, of all people, but Regina piped up immediately. 

“I could have told you that _years_ ago,” Regina put in from the bed, and suddenly everyone laughed.  Henry, however, was not deterred—the closer he got, the worse his grandfather’s wound looked. 

“Did the dagger do that?” he asked curiously, picking the weapon up off the table and looking at the blood on the blade. 

His observation earned him a tight half smile.  “Indeed it did.  An unfortunate side effect that remains of my curse, I’m afraid.  I can’t heal the wound.” 

“You’re admitting that you can’t do something?” Regina obviously couldn’t resist putting in, despite Robin’s attempts to hush her.  “Perhaps we should have invited Blue to stay.” 

“No thank you.”  Rumplestiltskin scowled at her. 

Belle had his coat off by now and was peeling aside the layers of clothing around the wound as Snow headed over to the wash basin to fetch a bowl of water and some clean cloths.  Henry’s grandfather looked annoyed by the attention, but shrugged off his vest when Belle pulled at it, grimacing. 

“This looks infected.  How long ago did it happen?” 

“A few hours.  Ouch.”  Rumplestiltskin had started to shrug, but cringed away when Belle tried to unstick the part of his shirt that blood had pasted to his side.  “And it’s not infected.” 

“It certainly looks like it is.  It looks horrible,” Snow put in, reaching Belle’s side, and Henry wondered for a moment if his grandfather might explode with annoyance.  He certainly didn’t seem to be enjoying the sudden attention, judging from the scowl on his face.  But Henry was smart enough to guess that Rumplestiltskin was using his irritation to mask pain; the lines around his eyes were deeper than ever, and his expression was rigid. 

“No, it isn’t,” he answered tightly as Belle started cleaning out the still-oozing wound.  “The blade of the dagger is toxic.  It’s like poison.” 

Hearing that made Henry drop the dagger, and all the adults turned to stare at him. 

“Henry!  Are you all right?” Snow asked, reaching for the offending weapon. 

“I’m fine,” he answered quickly.  “Sorry.” 

“It’s quite all right,” Rumplestiltskin replied with a ghost of a smile.  “The blade can’t hurt you like that.  Just me.” 

“Oh.  That’s good.” 

“Damn right it is,” Regina muttered, but she seemed to be drifting off to sleep again.  Meanwhile, Snow picked up the dagger. 

“I’ll be having that back, dear,” Rumplestiltskin said softly. 

“I thought you said it couldn’t control you?” 

“It can’t.  But I’m a bit partial to it, particularly since I just half-killed one of the world’s most powerful fae to get it back.”  The words were dangerous, but the tone was conversational, and it hit Henry—not for the first time—that he really didn’t know his grandfather very well at all.  He wasn’t cursed now, but Rumplestiltskin was still very dangerous if crossed, wasn’t he?  “The dagger, if you please.” 

Henry had to give his grandmother credit; Snow didn’t even hesitate before handing the dagger back to the former Dark One. “Of course.” 

“Thank you.” 

Belle broke in before Henry could ask how else Rumplestiltskin was still tied to the dagger.  “Hold still,” she ordered in a tone that no one in the room would have argued with.  “This is going to hurt.” 

Henry almost laughed at the way Rumplestiltskin went all meek and mild, but decided that now was not a good time to tweak his grandfather’s tail.  His father would probably have gotten away with it—there wasn’t much he’d seen his dad hesitate to say—but Henry was still trying to get to know Rumplestiltskin, and he was smart enough to wait.  Besides, he liked Belle an awful lot, and it was nice to see _someone_ able to boss Rumplestiltskin around.

 

****************

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to all the wonderful commenters out there! Your feedback is what keeps me writing quickly enough to post twice a week.
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 32: “A Flicker of Light”, in which Rumplestiltskin’s wound causes problems, a character makes a surprising return, and Emma and Baelfire run into unexpected trouble.
> 
> Now, my questions for you 1) What kind of problem do you think having been stabbed with the dagger will cause Rumplestiltskin and 2) which character do you think will be returning to OP?


	33. A Flicker of Light

**_Chapter Thirty-Two—“A Flicker of Light”_ **

 

He’d left a trigger on the fae, of course.  Norco might have thought Rumplestiltskin was only letting him go in order to offer peace to Danns' a'Bhàis, but _nothing_ Rumplestiltskin did was ever that simple.  Had there been less magic flying around during their fight, he might not have managed to tag Norco the way he had, but the small spell had snuck in under Norco’s very effective defenses and lay dormant, just waiting for a conversation to happen.  Merlin’s memories indicated that Norco would go straight to the Black Fairy after what their battle, and by the time Rumplestiltskin escaped Belle’s ministrations, Regina’s woozy attitude, Snow’s unexpected compassion, and Henry’s surprisingly astute questions, the information he needed was waiting for him.

Scrying was becoming a lost art amongst sorcerers, but it was one he’d practiced since almost the beginning.  Being able to see the future meant that Rumplestiltskin had less need of it than most, but he’d invented a spell that combined it with a simple trigger and allowed him one-time access to another’s surroundings and conversations.  The spell only lasted a few hours, but its results were waiting in the bowl for him when he made it to his tower workroom the next morning.  His side was aching, and he knew that if he removed the bandages Belle had insisted on wrapping him in, the wound would look still worse, but there would be time for that later.  For the moment, he had work to do. 

Rumplestiltskin waved a hand over the shallow silver dish, watching figures slowly resolve on the foggy surface of the water.  A vague part of his mind recognized the blue, silver, and black chamber in which the two figures sat, but Rumplestiltskin filed that bit of knowledge away for later.  Far more interesting were the two fae seated before a hearth glowing with magical embers. 

_“The trap was sprung,” Norco told Danns' a'Bhàis, looking distinctly unhappy.  His angular face was tight with fury—_ and that made Rumplestiltskin smile. _“He has the dagger, my lady.”_

_“You fool,” Danns’ replied,_ and the memories within Rumplestiltskin knew the anger in her eyes, saw it boiling quietly under the surface and waiting to erupt.  She burned cold, Danns' a'Bhàis did, but when her fury erupted, it was always well and truly terrifying.

He listened as the two spoke, but _watched_ more.  Norco was still bitter over his defeat, of course, but Danns’ reaction was more interesting.  She still thought—hoped?—he was Merlin.  That much was obvious.  Focusing, however, took more of an effort than Rumplestiltskin had expected.  His side was still burning, ominously so.  He’d cut himself with the dagger before—years ago, experimentally—and it hadn’t been this bad, or at least not that he recalled.  Perhaps because the wound had not been so deep?

_“What were your other impressions?” she asked after a few minutes,_ and Rumplestiltskin turned his mind back to the conversation.

_“The skill must belong to Merlin,” Norco replied immediately, his face twisting up in an arrogant snarl.  “No Dark One has ever acquired such learning.”_

That made Rumplestiltskin chuckle and forget about the poisonous ache in his side.  He’d indulged her assumptions on a whim, but now it was truly bearing fruit.

_“Rumplestiltskin has survived longer than any other,” Danns’ pointed out, her voice almost a purr._ Merlin’s memories twinged; Merlin had loved this side of her, the smart and the calculating woman hidden underneath the power.  Rumplestiltskin could respect this, but that purr reminded him of a voice that spoke during years’ worth of torture, not of anything good.

_“He was still only the Dark One,” Norco dismissed her point with a wave of one hand,_ and Rumplestiltskin could tell that Danns believed that.  How was it that neither of them understood how very much he’d studied, _learned_ , about magic?  He’d had three hundred years to do so—admittedly far longer than any of his predecessors, but still, some of them must have been more than just creatures of raw power. 

Didn’t they?  His own memories said otherwise.  So he watched as the two discussed their assumptions, and then as Norco left, striding down ever-changing corridors to his own domain.  The home of the fae _was_ magic, Rumplestiltskin realized, and was not constructed out of stone at all, despite what it looked like.  It was an extraordinary display of power, maintained for over two thousand years without flickering for a moment.  But the surroundings were not nearly so important as Norco’s destination—because the male fae took a left out of his own chambers and suddenly entered a dungeon. 

“Come back for more, you bastard?” Grumpy slurred from behind a mask of blood.  

The dwarf was chained against a wall, bloody and battered, and looked like he’d seen better days.  But the antagonistic expression he wore never wavered, particularly not when faced by the fae who had killed his True Love.  However, his defiance only made Norco laugh and throw a dark ball of magic at him, which made Grumpy scream in pain for several long minutes.  Finally, the fae released the dwarf from his spell, leaving Grumpy shaking and shuddering but trying to swear at him. 

But Rumplestiltskin lost Norco’s cheerful reply when blackness suddenly reared up and knocked him off his feet.

 

****************

 

“Rumple?”  The word drifted down to him without meaning at first, from a voice he knew but his mind could not process.  Hands shook his left arm gently, and then more urgently.  “Rumple, please, wake up.  _Please._ ” 

Oh.  _He_ was Rumple.  She was talking to him.  But why did that matter?  A swirl of memories overrode his consciousness, images of hands and pain and screaming and fighting when he couldn’t fight anymore—but then lips pressed to his forehead and an explosion of pure magic roared into him.  

“Rumple, please,” Belle whispered again, and somehow the memories of chains and torture receded.  Yet a voice still lingered, dark and seductive, whispering in the buried recesses of his mind.  _Destroy them all.  Prove your power._ Slowly, Rumplestiltskin opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness of sun streaming into his tower.  _Destroy this one first._  

“Hey,” he whispered.  His side was burning wildly, the pain spreading outwards from the wound.  That familiar voice within him hated this pain, rebelled against it, wanted him to fight and to kill because of it—but Belle’s worried face swam into focus and guilt crashed down to replace the growing fury.  Why was he always doing this to her? 

“You’re awake,” she breathed, and Rumplestiltskin looked into brilliant blue eyes so full of love and relief that it made his heart clench.  

“Yeah,” he breathed, feeling the acid still rushing through his veins.  Darkness still…still what?  “Sorry…about that.”  It took an effort to focus, but once he managed to, it got easier.  “How long was I out for?” 

“I don’t know.  You came up here hours ago.  I only just got here, and found you unconscious,” his love replied, leaning over to kiss him lightly. 

Magic echoed through Rumplestiltskin again, and for a moment, the pain in his side eased.  He’d always known that True Love’s kiss was powerful, but he had never once thought it might be enough to overcome the acidic effect that the Dark One’s dagger had upon him.  Would that still been the case had he still been under his curse?  There was no way to know, but Rumplestiltskin still wondered.  And yet— 

Of course.  What a fool he was.  That voice inside him was the curse trying to creep in through the wound in his side.  It wasn’t a poison that Danns’ had put on the dagger in case he ever regained it; no, this was far worse.  She’d planned for this possibility.  There was no poison running through his veins, and this was not just the acidic bite of a secondary power.  This was the curse of the Dark One, designed to capture any foothold it could in his soul.  The dagger alone was enough to do him serious harm, but the _curse…_   He could feel it building by the moment, and terror threatened to close his throat off.  He had been _free_.  Rumplestiltskin would not go back to being owned by that demon, and he would _not_ be someone’s slave.  

“Kiss me again,” he said suddenly, knowing the answer and remembering their first disastrous kiss, three decades ago.  “It’s working.” 

“What?” Belle echoed his own confusion of forever ago, and now it was Rumplestiltskin’s hand on her cheek, pulling her face to his as he managed to sit up.  But Belle did not resist, instead leaning into him and meeting his lips with her own.  

Thirty years ago, he had been terrified by this feeling.  Now, Rumplestiltskin relished it, closing his eyes as pure and sweet power tore through him, banishing the growing darkness even as it tried to sink sharp claws into his soul.  Belle’s soft hands cupped his face, just like she had so long ago, and for one brilliant, heartbreaking moment, Rumplestiltskin allowed himself to wonder what might have happened had he not driven her away out of desperation and fear, so many  years before.  Might he have discovered this power then, have never broken her heart, and still managed to find his son?  There was no way to know, but now— _now_ —now she was freeing him again, freeing him from chains that even now shattered.  

Rumplestiltskin could feel his curse’s hold shattering before his skin could start changing, could feel the power of True Love roaring through him and saving him.  Again.  

“I love you,” he whispered when they broke from the kiss, leaning his forehead against hers.  They were still on the floor.  Rumplestiltskin was now sitting up, with his side still aching, but now it was a manageable pain and not the all-consuming darkness it sought to be.  He supposed it looked terribly awkward, the way they were wrapped up in one another here, but he couldn’t care.  Neither, he sensed, did Belle. 

“And I love you,” she replied, pulling back to stroke his cheek and smile at him.  “But what happened?  Your eyes—they were starting to change.  To what they were…before.” 

 He hadn’t known that; Rumplestiltskin had only felt the changes happening.  “The dagger happened,” he replied with a grimace.  “When Norco cut me with it, the curse started trying to work its way back into me.” 

“Are you all right?” 

“Thanks to you,” Rumplestiltskin was able to say with a smile.  His side would still take weeks to heal, and would still be poisonously infected until it did, but that hardly mattered.  His former curse was a far greater threat than any wound could ever be, and Belle had neutralized that.   _I should have let her kiss me,_ he knew.  But he hadn’t, and he couldn’t change that now—and True Love had to be fought for.  Something would have happened to make them fight for what they had, he knew, whether it had been his own cowardice or something else.  But fought they had, and now they were here.  Together. 

“Always,” Belle replied, kissing him again.  Her smile was brilliant, and her next words seemed to read his mind:  “I’ll always fight for you.” 

“And I you.”

 

****************

 

“The place looks different than I remember,” Emma commented, sitting uncomfortably on a horse between David and Baelfire.  Her father had given her a few much-needed riding lessons in the three days that had passed since their army had taken Regina’s castle back, but she still looked miserable. 

Bae understood the feeling.  When he’d found himself aback in the Enchanted Forest after a few centuries away, he’d promptly discovered that he was expected to _ride_ a horse, a skill that a poor kid from the Frontlands had never picked up.  Mulan and David had both helped him a lot, and it was kind of nice to see David able to teach his daughter, too.  Bae knew how much David regretted the years he’d missed with Emma, and he was glad to see them able to share these moments.  The longer Emma spent in the Enchanted Forest, the more important her family relationships got, he knew.  Now they were approaching Snow and David’s old castle, the one Emma had been born in and should have grown up in.  She’d told Bae earlier that she’d been there once, back when she and Snow had been accidentally sucked back here.  But it had been almost two years since that had happened, and no one knew what kind of shape the castle would be in, now. 

“Better or worse?” David asked in response, looking at the castle he hadn’t seen in thirty years. 

Emma shrugged.  “Just different. Maybe it’s just that we’re not trying to run from ogres at the moment.” 

“I think I’ve had enough ogres for a lifetime,” the king replied feelingly. 

“You’re telling me,” Bae put in.  “Ogres have pretty much been involved in every key moment of my life, and I’d really like to break that trend.” 

“I don’t think you’re doing too badly.”  Emma shot him a grin.  “ _Sir_ Baelfire.” 

“Shut up.”  This woman made him crazy, and it didn’t help that David laughed, too.  Emma had caught on to Bae’s embarrassment over being knighted early on, and she _still_ ragged on him about it.  Still, it was what they did to one another, so he shot back: “ _Princess_ Emma.” 

She scowled at him, but David got in before Emma could retort. 

“Now, now, children.  Behave yourselves.” 

“Children?” Bae snorted.  “I’m _way_ older than you are.” 

“I’ll treat you like you’re a few centuries old when you start acting like it,” David replied with a grin.  “Besides which, do you _really_ want to remind me how big the age difference between you and my daughter is?” 

“David!” Emma objected, glaring at her father. 

Bae only grinned, but his witty response was lost when Mulan came riding up at a gallop, her long hair streaming behind her like a black flame.  “There’s some sort of demon attacking the supply train,” she said without preamble.  “Come quickly.”

 

****************

 

“I feel horrible,” Regina groused, leaning back against Robin’s chest and closing her eyes.  She’d gotten out of bed for the first time today, going just as far as the library to spend some time with Henry and start worrying about how her son seemed to be tearing through books on magic.  Just the act of walking back to her own chambers had exhausted her, however, and Robin had had to catch her when she’d almost fallen coming through the doors. 

Using magic to support herself only seemed to make things worse, and she was guiltily grateful when Granny had shown up to gather the various children, taking both Roland and Henry off her hands.  The fierce old woman still wasn’t exactly Regina’s friend, and she really _wasn’t_ the babysitter than Regina would have chosen, but at least she was trustworthy. 

“It’s only been three days,” Robin reminded her, threading his fingers through hers.  His simple act of affection made Regina smile; she hated showing weaknesses, but at least Robin didn’t hold them against her. 

“I should be _fine,”_ she still snapped before she could stop herself.  “The stupid blue bug actually healed me well.  I can’t find anything wrong with myself.” 

But then why did she feel like her arms and legs were made of lead, and why did she get dizzy so easily?  Regina hadn’t _ever_ felt this terrible, not even when she’d used so much magic that she’d utterly drained herself and wound up unconscious for three hours on the floor of Rumplestiltskin’s castle.  She’d woken up to him laughing at her, of course, but her power had come back quickly enough, and she’d tried to blast him into the ceiling in retaliation.   It hadn’t worked, but what mattered now was that Regina would have been _able_ to do it then if she’d been attacking anyone but Rumplestiltskin.  So, she shouldn’t be feeling this absolute dearth of power now.  Not like this. 

“You _did_ just face off with one of the most powerful fairies in existence,” Robin pointed out reasonably, and Regina scowled again. 

“Yeah, the irony of the Evil Queen doing that is still doing its rounds here in the castle.  I hate gossip.” 

Maleficent’s empty-headed princess was bad enough, but her father-in-law—the fool who had almost handed Henry to the Black Fairy thinking she was the _other_ annoying fairy!—was even worse.  Hubert seemed to have taken it upon himself to stand up and tell everyone how they needed to tear themselves away from evil influences like Regina and Rumplestiltskin, and she’d run into him on her way to the library with Henry.  Regina hadn’t been in anything like her usual form, but if Robin and Henry hadn’t been there to stop her, she might very well have turned him into a slug. 

She had, however, been able to frighten him by reminding him that saying such things while inside Rumplestiltskin’s castle probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, and Robin had just grinned slyly and offered to go get Rumplestiltskin so that the idiot king could say it to his face.  That had made Hubert flee, and at least Regina didn’t have to listen to him lecturing Aurora and a half-dozen others on how Regina was the Evil Queen and would never change. 

“Small-minded people will always rise to the level of their own prejudices,” he answered, and Regina twisted to look at him. 

“How did you get so wise as an outlaw?” 

“Experience, mostly.”  A smile creased his handsome face, and Regina felt an odd flutter in her chest, the kind she had thought died with Daniel so long ago. “I find that when you steal from people, you learn a lot about what kind of person they really are.  Same for when you help those who never expected help.” 

“Huh.  I never would have thought being a thief was so educational,” she replied drily.  

Robin laughed.  “Neither would my father.  He was terribly disappointed in me, at least until the Sheriff had him executed on trumped up charges.” 

“I’m sorry.”  Why did Regina’s throat want to close off with sorrow for this man she had never met?  Still, if he’d raised Robin to be the way he was, the former Lord Locksley must have been special indeed. 

“Ancient history, love.”  Robin’s smile turned a little sad.  “Marian and I named Roland for her father, but we always thought that we’d name our second son for him.” 

Regina squeezed his hand.  “Perhaps you still have a chance for that.”

 

****************

 

“Are you going to be able to do this?” the damn green fairy—who at least had chosen to call herself something more meaningfully than just her stupid color—asked her. 

Trying not to grimace as she lowered herself into her most comfortable chair, Maleficent glared weakly.  “I understand my role in this, you little brat.” 

“You can call me a brat all you want as long as you remember that I saved your life,” Tinker Bell shot back, and despite herself, Maleficent smiled. 

She rather _liked_ this defiant and disobedient fairy, the one who bullied Blue and refused to abandon her friends.  There wasn’t much back down in the much-younger fairy, and the stubborn set of her chin reminded Maleficent of herself, oh, five or six hundred years ago.  She’d even told Tink that two days earlier, when she’d finally woken up in the bowels of the Dark Castle where Rumplestiltskin and Tinker Bell had hidden her “body” away from prying eyes.  Of course, then Maleficent had been more than half-dead and clinging to life, having used the same ancient spells to save herself from the Black Fairy as she had once done to keep the infernal Savior from slaying her as a dragon.  Now she was much more coherent, even if she was still weak. 

“I would have lived,” she sniffed, not letting on her affection for the younger fairy show too much.  Apparently Tink had become good friends with Regina, too, and that only added to Maleficent’s decision to like her.  Someday, the three of them would have to sit down together for tea. 

“As what, some disembodied spirit?  Regina told me that it took her reversing her curse to bring you back from that,” Tink shot back. 

“I would have managed.” 

But Tink clearly saw the amusement in Maleficent’s eyes, so she plopped into a chair and put her feet up on the table.  The younger fairy’s lack of manners must have driven pompous Blue _mad_ , and that thought finally made Maleficent smile.  “So.  You’re sure you can survive ‘joining’ the fae?” 

“The worst they can do is kill me,” Maleficent shrugged, not showing the simmering anger living inside her.  _Like the Black Fairy already tried to do.  Like she tried to kill my best friend._   “What do I have to lose?” 

“I hear they’re not very nice to those who cross them.” 

“They’re fae, dear.  That’s what they do.”

 

****************

 

When the three of them reached the supply chain to find a shadowy demon breathing fire on everyone in sight, David charged in like the hero he’d always been.  Of course, he _was_ the logical choice to engage a magical creature, given that he was carrying the most magical sword of them all, but Bae wished the king had waited just a moment longer.  He might have stopped to make a _plan_ or something, but Bae had been working with David long enough to know that didn’t always happen. 

“Get these people out of here!” David shouted at him and Emma, and they jumped off their horses to do just that.  Together, they physically hauled uninjured soldiers and support staff aside while David dodged first one fireball, and then another, running towards the demon and then blocking the third fireball with Excalibur.  “Hey, you!  Pick on someone that can fight back!” 

The demon—which looked suspiciously like Pan’s shadow, except that it was breathing red-hot _fire_ when it wasn’t flinging fireballs with both hands—stopped short to stare at David, floating about five feet above the ground.  It didn’t answer, just stared at the king for several long moments as Emma and Bae pulled burned-but-breathing soldiers clear.  Its eyes glowed red as the demon cocked its head, clearly trying to decide exactly what Excalibur was.  Could a black face made of shadow look confused?  If so, the demon did. 

But David hadn’t become a world-renowned hero for hesitating, and he did not hesitate now.  While the demon paused, David charged in, ducking under the fireball that the demon hurled his way in surprise, and leaping up to bury Excalibur up to the hilt in the demon’s shadowy chest.  The demon shuddered abruptly, letting out a low growl of a cry, and the otherworldly glow in its eyes seemed to falter.  It dropped to the ground, landing awkwardly on half-solid feet, swaying and growling at David one more time. 

_Well,_ Bae thought as he handed a burn victim off to Doc.  _That was easier than I thought.  Kind of like killing Pan’s shadow—_  

The sudden explosion of fire almost tore him off his feet; even though Bae was a good twenty feet away from the demon, he felt the massive heat trying to cook him to a cinder.  Thankfully, the blast lasted less than a second, but when he wheeled back to face the demon, he realized that the flare-up was not the demon’s death throes.  No, this was— 

_“No!_ ” Emma shouted, rushing to where David lay, bleeding and burned, not five feet away from where she and Bae had been standing. 

Excalibur was still sticking through the demon’s chest, but as Bae watched, wide-eyed with shock, the demon levitated itself back up off the ground, growling out guttural laughter.  The legendary sword seemed unharmed by the explosion of fire, but it obviously hadn’t killed the demon, either.  And trying to grab it for a second attempt would just be suicide.  Desperately, Bae lunged for his horse—a dull creature that had thankfully not run from the blast of fire—and yanked his crossbow off where it was tied to the saddle.  His other hand dove into the quarrel and grabbed for a pair of bolts as his mind whirled. 

The demon swung to face him, either sensing the squid ink on the arrowheads or just seeking out the newest threat.   Bae had to dive out of the way of a fireball, rolling to his feet and praying that his newly-repaired crossbow would survive long enough to be used this time. 

“Emma!” he shouted above a suddenly rising wind. “Freeze it with your magic!  Try to keep it from hurting anyone else!” 

Frankly, Bae had no idea how Emma’s magic lessons with Regina were going or even if she _could_ do as he asked.  But Emma didn’t argue, turning to face the demon with her face screwed up in concentration and her hands coming up.   All he needed was a moment, and just a touch of luck—but Bae had to dodge another fireball, one that singed him around the edges more than a little—before he could even load the crossbow. 

His horse had finally run away, not too far, but still far enough that he wasn’t going to be able to get reloads if he missed with the first two crossbow bolts.  Loading quickly—his hands were mercifully steady, thanks to this past year of war—Bae aimed and let loose the first shot.  But the demon was just as fast as Pan’s shadow had ever been, and it jinked out of the way with ridiculous ease, dancing in the air as if it _was_ merely a shadow and nothing more dangerous.  Quickly, Bae reloaded the crossbow, trying to judge the wind whipping around them and wondering if praying would help.  

“Now, Neal!” Emma cried, and the demon froze. 

He took the shot, watched the bolt slam home right under the demon’s chin, snapping its black and wispy head back like a physical blow.  Immediately, blue light shimmered outwards from the crossbow bolt, and then the demon collapsed to the ground with a thud.  Without thinking, Bae sprinted over to pull Excalibur out of the creature, surprised by how very cool the sword’s hilt was.  It should have burned him but did not, and Bae looked down into red eyes full of rage.  Still, the demon was frozen, and that meant he should get back to Emma.  He rushed over to find Emma cradling her father in her arms, her eyes full of tears. 

David was still breathing, but only barely, and Bae didn’t need to be a doctor to know that there was no way he was living through that.  The king was a mess of burns and looked like he’d broken several crucial bones when he’d been thrown, too; if Bae didn’t know who he was, he wouldn’t have recognized his friend.  Numbly, he knelt next to Emma, putting a hand on her shoulder.  He knew there was nothing he could say, but— 

“No,” she whispered, and there was as much determination as there was heartbreak in her voice.  David tried to say something—how _was_ he still conscious?—but the words died in a gurgle of pain.  “ _No._ I am not letting this happen.  I just found you, and I’m _not going to lose you again_!” 

A shiver ran up Bae’s spine, and it took him a moment to hear the power behind Emma’s words, to feel the _love_ rolling off of her and pouring into her father.  White light started glowing from her hands as she held David, slowly working its way over the king’s burned body and knitting wounds back together, erasing burns and restoring life.   A minute passed, and then two, and David’s breathing slowly turned from ragged to slow.  He had been gasping but was now breathing almost normally as tears ran down Emma’s face unchecked.  An eternity seemed to pass before David opened his eyes. 

“Daddy?” Emma whispered, sounding so lost that Bae just wanted to hold her and wish the hurt away. 

But David’s smile did the trick.  “You saved me.” 

“Yeah.”  Emma smiled through her tears. “I guess I did.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter almost killed me with the feels in it when I wrote it. Hopefully, I’m not the only one. Next up is Chapter 33: “Ocean of Darkness”, in which Belle interrupts something interesting and Maurice is unexpectedly smart.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	34. Ocean of Darkness

**_Chapter Thirty-Three—“Ocean of Darkness”_ **

 

Squid ink, it turned out, only held the demon for about an hour.  Right at the fifty-eight minute mark (Emma’s watch was still working, thank you very much), it started twitching, and by minute fifty-nine, it had tried to launch a fireball at her.  So Neal shot it again, and together they watched the demon go still. 

By that point, most of the wounded had been dealt with and the burning carts had been extinguished.  Mulan and a few others were still trying to chase down all the horses and soldiers the demon had frightened off, but the army was more or less in one piece again after the initial confusion.  David was up and around, and though looking at her father made Emma’s heart clench in her chest, he seemed to be okay. She kept waiting for the healing she’d done for him to fall apart at any moment, but apparently Regina had been right.  Magic was _emotion_ , and even though Emma had never even _thought_ about trying to heal someone before, let alone studied how, she’d felt strongly enough, been desperate enough, to save her father’s life. 

Having done so was more than a little terrifying, but Emma _had_ decided to learn magic, so she supposed that she ought to get used to the feeling. 

“So.  What can we do with this thing?” David asked, approaching where she and Neal stood over the demon, staring at its now-still form. 

“Well, cutting its head off doesn’t work,” Neal volunteered.  “We tried that already.  Twice.”  Her boyfriend—if that’s what he was again—shrugged.  “Here’s Excalibur, by the way.  It’s not much use against this bugger.” 

“Damn,” her father said quietly, and Emma nodded in agreement. 

“I don’t really know how to kill something with magic, either, and I’m not sure that figuring it out on something that can survive Excalibur is a good idea,” she said hesitantly.  But she made a promise to herself to study harder even as the words came out—Regina was right.  Refusing to learn magic was like voluntarily blinding herself in one eye.  It was stupid. 

“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” Neal agreed. 

“How much more squid ink do you have?” David asked next. 

“About enough to get us halfway through the night, assuming it works for an hour every time.  So, in other words: not nearly enough.” 

“And we have no way to move this… _thing_ ,” Emma added.  “Even if we knew what to do with it.  And we can’t just stay here on the road.” 

“So, you’re saying we should probably call this one in,” the king said, reaching for the tablet he kept in a pouch on his belt.  But his hand hit empty air.  “Emma.  Did you fix the tablet when you fixed my clothes?” 

Her heart sank.  “Um.  No?”  

She hadn’t even consciously managed to repair David’s clothes, though Emma was glad she had.  The burns had been bad, and all over the place.  If she hadn’t, her father would be walking around showing off body parts that only her mother should ever see.  Emma might have physically been her parents’ age, but she really _wasn’t_ interested in seeing David Nolan that way, not ever.  So her magic had seen fit to help her out and mend his clothes in addition to his body…but apparently that didn’t cover the things that had been on his belt.  After looking around for several moments, David _did_ find the pouch near where he’d been lying on the ground earlier, and it was burned to a crisp. 

“I could try to fix it…?” she offered hesitantly, having no idea how. 

“Can you fix the magic on it even if you repair it?” Neal asked, and Emma cringed.  It wasn’t his fault—it was a logical question—but now she felt even worse. 

“Maybe?” 

She started to reach for the charred piece of chalkboard—where _did_ they get chalkboard in the Enchanted Forest, anyway?—but then David’s hand abruptly dropped, leaving Emma grasping at thin air.  “I’m an idiot,” her father said, looking like he wanted so smack himself in the forehead.  “There’s a much easier way to go about this.  Assuming he’s listening.  Rumplestiltskin.” 

Emma stared at David in confusion, and could see that Neal felt the same from where he stood at her side.  They exchanged a glance, and finally Neal spoke up: 

“You know that’s only a legend, and besides, I’m not sure if it applies now that he’s not the Dark One.” 

“It always worked before,” David replied. 

“What always worked?” Emma asked, puzzled.  “You mean that you expect Gold to hear you when you call his name like that?” 

David shrugged.  “Why do you think no one wanted to use his name in Storybrooke?” 

“Maybe because it’s an unpronounceable mouthful?” 

“Well, that’s hardly polite,” a familiar voice suddenly said from behind her, making Emma whirl around.  Her father, of course, grinned.  Damn him. 

Damn them both.  Gold— _Rumplestiltskin,_ Emma reminded herself, finally appreciating the difference between the two—looked entirely too self-satisfied.  

“And here I thought we were getting along better these days,” the sorcerer quipped. 

“Be nice, Pop,” Neal said, but even Emma could tell that he wasn’t actually angry with his father. 

“I’m on my best behavior,” Rumplestiltskin promised, and the twinkle in his eye suddenly reminded Emma very vividly of the man standing beside her.  And of Henry.  _I always knew he’d gotten Neal’s sense of humor.  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised._  

“Great,” she shot back, but not with the ire she once would have summoned up.  “Then you can help us deal with this demon…thing.” 

Fortunately, the sorcerer turned serious when he stepped up next to them, peering down at the demon.  In fact, Emma was pretty sure that she saw his eyes widen slightly in surprise, and that, at least, was a victory she always enjoyed experiencing.  It was damn hard to surprise Gold, and Emma liked to do it every chance she got. 

“You trapped an elemental demon of fire,” he said after a moment, running a hand through the air over the demon.  “With squid ink.” 

“Emma froze it first so that it quit dodging,” Neal volunteered, and Rumplestiltskin glanced her way.  

“Impressive.” 

“Can you kill it?” David asked. “Even Excalibur can’t seem to manage to cut its head off.  Or anything, really.” 

Hanging in the air unspoken between them was the fact that Rumplestiltskin had once explained how Excalibur would cut through any enchantment, how the sword was what they called a secondary power—and Emma now knew just enough magical theory to understand how significant that was.  So the sword _should_ have done the trick.  Thinking it would kill the demon had undoubtedly been what had made her father rush in like he had, and almost die.  But it _should have worked._ Emma found that more than a little annoying.

“No, Excalibur wouldn’t,” the slender man murmured, looking distracted.  

“Why not?” she demanded.   

Blinking, Rumplestiltskin finally looked at the three of them, and as his dark eyes swept over David, Emma got the distinct impression he sensed the magic she’d had to use to save her father.  Perhaps that was why he offered an explanation instead of sarcasm: “An elemental demon can only be killed by its opposite,” he said, gesturing at the still-infuriated creature.  “In this case, an elemental demon of fire can only be killed by air—but the trick is that what can kill them is also what they consume.  Only a surfeit of the element can actually kill them.” 

“Great.”  Emma wished that explanation made less sense to her.  “Can you kill it?” 

“Certainly.  But I’m not going to.”  Before they could object, Rumplestiltskin smiled.  “Instead, I’m going to trap it, and save it for something special.” 

Before any of them could object, a small box appeared to the sorcerer’s left, and his hands came up together, forming a small golden tornado between them that honed in on the still-frozen demon.

 

****************

 

The group of royals and nobles had gathered in the ballroom as if no one would notice.  But after watching a few people slip off, glancing over their shoulders and trying too obviously to be stealthy about it, Belle started getting suspicious.  When she finally spotted her own father heading into the ballroom in the east wing, she decided to follow.  

Unlike those sneaking around, Belle knew the Dark Castle extremely well.  _She_ knew that the ballroom had four separate doors, one of which was hidden behind a giant tapestry.  So Belle hung a right when Sir Maurice went through the doors on his left, taking the passageway that _looked_ like it should lead away from the ballroom and jogged about fifty feet.  Then she took the third door on her left, and followed it down a short hallway until she reached the northern ballroom entrance.  No one noticed when she slipped in, and Belle was able to listen to the conversations with impunity while she hid in the shadows.  The ballroom really was quite poorly lit, but why waste candles on a room that no one ever entered?  It had only been gathering dust since little Graham’s christening. 

“Queen Snow and King David have obviously become corrupted by the influence of the Evil Queen and the Dark One,” Queen Leah told her audience, with King Hubert standing by her side.  “They are good people, but they have been misled.  They have often referred to the events that took place in Storybrooke as a basis for trusting these proven villains, but those of us who were _not_ there have enough perspective to understand how ridiculous this sounds.” 

“Please don’t assume all of us who were in Storybrooke have fallen into this trap,” Sir Maurice spoke up, making Belle’s heart sink.  “Not all of us have taken leave of our senses.” 

“Of course not, Sir Maurice.  Please forgive my error,” Leah replied courteously, and Belle’s eyes swept the crowd.  There were about two dozen people there, all of them well born—and many of them with faces Belle recognized. 

There were Lady Tremaine and one of her daughters—was that Drizella?  Belle remembered them vaguely from some function before Lady Tremaine had married Ella’s father, back when they were all girls and a lot more innocent.  Near them was the odious Marquis de Limoges, who she knew had put in a bid for her hand both before she’d been engaged to Gaston and again very recently, right before Rumplestiltskin had turned up alive.  Next to the disgusting little bald man was Sir Richard LeFou, her father’s current favorite to marry her, and although he wasn’t as bad as Limoges, he _was_ twice as stupid.  LeFou was standing next to her father with that oblivious hanger-oner look he always wore when trying to convince Maurice that he agreed with everything he said. 

But those were the minor nobles.  The more important people, the royals, were far more interesting—and far more dangerous.  Unsurprisingly, Philip and Aurora stood near their respective parents, and Rapunzel stood near them.  Belle had expected them to be there, particularly since Rapunzel had been locked up with King Hubert and Queen Leah for months on end and clearly trusted both.  Seeing the former King George there hardly made Belle blink, but she hadn’t expected Prince Naveen and Tiana, neither of which she knew well.  Nor was she expecting a tall man who she _thought_ was Lord Fflewddur Fflam, or the wry sorcerer who Rumplestiltskin had once identified as Lord Soulis.  But the two that hurt the most to see were Prince Eric and Ariel, both of whom had arrived just two days earlier and Belle had considered friends. 

There were others present, but Belle didn’t recognize any of them—and that hardly mattered once Queen Leah started speaking again. 

_I hadn’t expected her to be the ring leader, but given how bumbling Hubert tends to be, I suppose that’s not a surprise._  

“We must act quickly, or any chance of freedom for our peoples will be lost, as will any chance we have to further expand our territories,” Leah continued.  “The Evil Queen was weakened in her battle with the Black Fairy, so now is the time to destroy her.  If we are able to do so, it is likely that Queen Snow and King David will be able to free themselves of her influence.  Then we will be able to overpower the Dark One upon his return.” 

“Your Majesty, I think you are mistaken on two fronts.”  Surprisingly, it was Belle’s father who spoke up, and she paused to listen to him instead of interrupting like she had planned.  “Firstly, I believe my daughter when she says that the Dark One’s curse has been broken.  Rumplestiltskin is no longer cursed—but I also remember that he is the one who saved us all from the Black Fairy.  I think any plan to overpower him would be easily overcome.” 

Hubert blinked.  “Then what would you have us do?  Would you have us submit to evil tyranny?” 

Leah did not let Maurice reply, which was probably a good thing—Belle recognized the mulish look on her father’s face, and the stubborn ache in her heart abruptly eased.  _Papa’s not here to help them.  He’s here to stop them!_ Belle’s emotions whipped from worried to giddy in the blink of an eye, and she had never been so proud to be Maurice’s daughter as she was right then. 

“I will not allow this to continue.  I will _not_ be dictated to by sorcerers any longer.  Moreover, those of us who were not taken by the Evil Queen’s curse will not stand to be lorded over by those who went to that town known as Storybrooke.  This is _our_ home, and the new borders drawn during the time everyone else was gone _will_ stand, no matter what Queen Snow and King David have said.  They were not here; those of us who suffered in their absence will be rewarded for our patience.” 

That pronouncement was obviously not as popular as the others; although about half the nobles in the room had dodged Regina’s curse, not all of them had.  And although Belle could tell that no one in the room was happy with the current balance of power, a few of them seemed unready to go against the pair that had successfully led them through the war—or the Evil Queen and the sorcerer who had made that victory a certainty. 

“Agreed,” George snapped with his typical sneer.  “I for one will not stand for Snow and ‘Charming’s’ blatant usurpation of power, or for the vile sorcerers who are pulling their strings.” 

“Vile sorcerers?” Belle could no longer keep out of this, so she strode out of the shadows to stand at her father’s side.  She stabbed a finger at George.  “You wouldn’t _be_ here if not for Rumplestiltskin and Regina.  You’d be one of Pan’s puppets, or dead.”  

Wheeling to face the others, she continued: “And as for the rest of you, you were at Prince Graham’s Christening.  Rumplestiltskin saved you _all_ then, and you still want to call him some evil being?  He’s not the Dark One any longer.  He’s _changed_ , and you owe him your lives.  And this is how you repay him, by sneaking around _his_ castle, where he’s kindly given you shelter, and plotting behind his back?  What kind of fools are you?” 

“Maurice, why did you bring her here?” Hubert demanded.  “She’s the Dark One’s lover.” 

“He didn’t bring me here.  You weren’t nearly as subtle as you thought you were when you crept off to this little meeting, and I followed you,” Belle retorted, squaring her shoulders proudly.  “And yes.  I love Rumplestiltskin.  He’s a good man who stands by his allies, which is more than I can say for the lot of you.” 

“Remove your daughter, Sir Maurice,” Queen Leah commanded imperiously. 

“Excuse me?  This is my home, not your palace, and I’m not going anywhere, and certainly not by your orders.” 

“Wait.”  That was George again, wheeling around to glare at Belle.  “We can’t let her leave.  She’ll just tell them our plans.” 

“And if you harm a hair on her head, the Dark One will filet you,” Lord Soulis spoke up abruptly.  “This was always an alliance of fools.  I will no longer take any part in this.” 

“You cannot back out now!” Hubert objected. 

The sorcerer turned to face the dumpy looking king.  “I defy you to force me, _Your Majesty._   Or did you miss the part where I learned magic from Queen Cora?” 

Belle had not known that about Soulis, but at the moment, she was willing to take any ally she could get.  Soulis’ declaration had clearly made a few people uncomfortable, too; she could see Limoges shifting uneasily, and Ariel looked positively miserable.  Belle’s friend had a death grip on Eric’s arm and was shooting him significant looks that made Eric study his feet.  Even Philip and Aurora seemed to be having second thoughts, so she turned to look at the younger royals.  Perhaps those of her own generation would listen to her when their elders proved stubborn. 

“We have an alliance,” she reminded them forcefully.  “All of you signed on for this—or your regents did when you were held prisoner.”  Belle looked at Leah and Hubert while she said the last part, knowing they’d been locked up at the beginning of the war, and that Philip and Aurora had joined the alliance in their steads.  “And noneof you complained while the war was being fought.  No, you had to wait until the war was _won_ before you became brave. You’re pathetic.” 

“It’s not too late to stop this,” Maurice spoke up from her side.  “You’ll all be able to go home soon enough, and then you can ally your kingdoms with whomever you like.” 

“All you have to do is walk out of this room without breaking the treaty,” Belle finished for him. 

“And will you fail to tell the Dark One about this little meeting?” Leah demanded, her voice a little shaky. 

“He’s not the Dark One anymore.  And we don’t keep secrets from one another.”  She let her eyes sweep over the assembled royals and nobles, and then turned to her father, feeling closer to Maurice than she had in years.  “Shall we, Papa?” 

“Indeed we shall,” Maurice replied, and they swept towards the main doors together.  Maurice pulled them open, and they stepped forward together, not bothering to look back at the mortified and/or terrified fools behind them.  Belle was fairly certain that none of the people they’d left behind were stupid enough to try to actually harm either one of them, so she didn’t even bother to look at them.  She and her father walked out confidently—only to stop cold. 

Rumplestiltskin was standing in the doorway with a knowing smile on his face. 

Belle felt her father tense beside her, but she couldn’t help smiling back.  Her father _had_ said his name, after all, and no one knew better than Belle how quickly her True Love could appear once that word was uttered.  Had her papa done that on purpose?  Belle had to wonder.  If so, did that mean that her father had finally accepted the fact that she wasn’t giving up Rumplestiltskin, no matter what Maurice said?  She’d have to talk to her father about this later, but for now, her eyes were on Rumplestiltskin. 

“Quite a speech, sweetheart,” Rumplestiltskin said, reaching out to take her hand.  Much to Belle’s surprise, he planted a soft kiss on the back of it, his brown eyes meeting hers. 

Despite her earlier anger, Belle’s heart skipped a beat.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t one for overt public displays of affection, and although she knew that this one was partially for the benefit of those watching, she could see his love for her shining in his eyes.  She knew him well enough to know that this show served a purpose, but Belle trusted him.  She would play along. 

“Thank you, Rumple,” she replied, returning his smile with one of her own and moving to his side.  Together, they looked at the now-shocked nobility still standing in the room—not one of which had found any of the other exits and looked desperate for a way to escape Rumplestiltskin. 

She moved with him as he stepped into the room, noticing that her father hung back a little, looking a bit lost.  Rumplestiltskin’s body language reminded Belle vividly of that of a cat stalking its prey, light on his feet and playful, yet ready to pounce in an instant.  Sometimes she hated the way he toyed with people, the way he moved them around like chess pieces on a board—but today, Belle knew it was necessary.  Someone needed to intimidate these people out of destroying the Grand Alliance, and he really was best suited to that task.  So, she hooked her arm through that of her True Love and let him embrace some of the darkness that still stained his soul. 

“Lovely gathering, my lords and ladies,” Rumplestiltskin drawled, twirling his free hand.  Magic leapt around the room, snuffing out candles and plunging the ballroom into darkness—until suddenly a half dozen skylights appeared in the domed ceiling and sunlight streamed in.  He quirked a dangerous smile at the royals.  “Your Highnesses.  So glad you decided to have your little party without me.  In my castle.” 

Meanwhile, Belle didn’t miss the panicked look Hubert threw Leah’s way, but Aurora’s mother ignored her fellow monarch.  She kept her eyes on Rumplestiltskin, clearly trying to appear calm and collected, but Belle saw the nervous tick at the corner of her mouth, saw the way her brown eyes were a tad wider than they should have been.  The others were starting to shift apprehensively, too.  Every eye in the room, save hers, was on Rumplestiltskin, watching him prowl forward with Belle on his arm. 

“Nothing to say?” Rumplestiltskin questioned after a full minute of silence, his voice rising in pitch and reminding Belle very vividly of him as the Dark One.  “Not a one of you?” 

Now Belle could see several of them visibly shaking.  Normally, she would have felt pity for these poor, cornered people, but they’d brought it upon themselves.  They were a lot of cowards, wanting to wait until the war was over to try to squeeze out every advantage they had, stabbing their allies—the people who had fought and won the war—in the backs in the process.  She wasn’t even as angry for their stated desire to kill Regina and Rumplestiltskin—Belle knew those two could take care of themselves just fine.  But the fact that these so-called nobles were willing to forget every shred of honor they had just for a little personal gain utterly sickened her. 

“What a pity,” her love continued airily.  “And here I was hoping for a legion of good excuses, reasons why you’d betray your allies…and for what?  A little personal gain, a few more miles of territory and a few more peasants to oppress?”  His voice turned into a sneer.  “A pity indeed.” 

Abruptly, he turned away, and Belle had to take a few quick steps to keep up with him.  His right hand snapped out, pointing.  “A word, Soulis, if you would.” 

The other sorcerer jumped.  “Of course.” 

Rumplestiltskin and Belle had almost reached the doors before Queen Leah found her voice. 

“And…the rest of us?” 

“Do you think I should kill you, dearie?” He stopped, and waited another long moment before turning back to face the crowd.  Suddenly, Belle realized that she felt no tension in him, no magic crackling beneath the surface like she did when he was furious.  Rumplestiltskin might be playing the part of the deadly evil sorcerer, but he was no more dangerous now than he was under normal circumstances.  He was playing with them, not furious.  “Well?” 

“You would not…” But Leah trailed off, clearly remembering the tales of the many things Rumplestiltskin _would_ do, and knowing that being royalty would not save any of them.  Rumplestiltskin had never cared about that. 

“Oh, don’t tempt me, dear.  There’s nothing I like less than cowards and traitors,” he responded easily, twisting around to face them again.  “But I know what you are now.  Don’t I?” 

A soft murmur of fear tore around the room, and it felt like the temperature had dropped a dozen degrees. 

“So I don’t think I need to kill any of you.  You’ll behave yourselves.”  Rumplestiltskin shrugged.  “And if you don’t—well, I think you all know that I’m only a heartbeat away, don’t you?  So don’t get any ideas.” 

Once again, Rumplestiltskin started to turn away, but stopped in mid-stride.  “Oh, and if any of you threaten my lady again, I’m killing all of you.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I got several requests for Belle to tell some people what she thinks of them, so here it is! Stay tuned for Chapter 34: "Lines Drawn", where Emma and Regina have a chat about magic, Snow and Charming are reunited, and Rumplestiltskin starts pulling strings.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	35. Lines Drawn

**_Chapter Thirty-Four—“Lines Drawn”_ **

 

Emma hadn’t wanted to come back to the Dark Castle while her father and Neal were still securing the castle she’d been born in, but someone had to report back, and their tablet was still toasted.  Rumplestiltskin had departed abruptly and without offering much explanation several hours earlier, which left _her_ with the responsibility of going home and telling everyone that the kingdom was secure.  Worse yet, Emma had teleported herself successfully exactly _once_ before, and she wasn’t all that confident that she could manage it a second time.  Oh, she knew the theory just fine—Regina had prioritized teaching Emma a useful skill like that—but Emma had still been incredibly nervous when she’d disappeared in a swirl of white smoke. 

The fact that she reappeared almost on top of her mother didn’t help her stress level at _all._  

“Whoa— _Emma?_ ” Snow gasped, stumbling out of the way. 

“Hi.  Sorry.”  She smiled sheepishly as Regina—looking pale, bruised, and sickly on the bed—snickered. 

“So glad to see you, Miss Swan,” Regina drawled, sitting up painfully.  She’d been sprawled against a stack of pillows when Emma had arrived almost on top of the chair that Snow had been sitting in, but now the Evil Queen was clearly determined not to lie down any longer, no matter how much it hurt.

“You look like hell,” Emma said before she could stop herself. 

Regina rolled her eyes.  “So nice of you to point that out.  You _did_ hear that I went three for three with the Black Fairy, didn’t you?  When she tried to kidnap _our_ son?” 

“No!”  Emma whipped around to glare at her mother.  “When did that happen?  No one said a word to Neal or I.” 

“I thought Rumplestiltskin would have said something,” Snow replied immediately, shrugging helplessly.  “He usually…” 

“Keeps his cards close.  Don’t ever expect Rumple to share anything he deems irrelevant,” Regina cut in, shrugging.  “It doesn’t matter.  I survived, even if I did have to suffer the indignity of being healed by the damn blue bug.” 

“You still shouldn’t call her that, Regina,” Snow said softly, but even Emma couldn’t sense any actual reprimand in her mother’s voice. 

“Oh, you don’t care and you know it.”  The Evil Queen turned back to look at Emma, grimacing slightly.  “I’m far more interested in the fact that you actually managed to teleport yourself here, all the way from our little kingdom.  I’m impressed, Emma.  For once.” 

“Has anyone told you lately that you can be a royal bitch sometimes?” Emma retorted conversationally. 

“That’s why they call us queens, dear.”  The tired smile showed dimples, and even Snow snickered at that one. 

“So I managed to teleport.  What’s the big deal?” Emma tried to brush off the compliment—if it was a compliment.  Regina being _nice_ took some getting used to, even if it included a lot of sarcastic remarks and snarky attitude.  Even though she’d been learning magic from Regina for a while now, and sharing her son with her for even longer, Emma still had a hard time thinking of Regina as a…friend.  Or her mentor.  Mentor sounded better. 

“Even you know that’s a big deal, Emma.  Well done.”  The last words came out as a wheeze, though, and Emma didn’t miss the worried look her mother sent Regina’s way.  _It really_ is _a brave new world, isn’t it?  Rumplestiltskin—jerk though he can be—wasn’t wrong.  Everything’s changed._   Otherwise, how could she be sitting here with her mother and the Evil Queen, calmly discussing her magic lessons? 

“Look, what’s more important at the moment is that we did it.”  Emma turned back to face Snow.  “We took the castle back.  David’s there now, and so’s Neal.  The kingdom’s ours.” 

Emma hadn’t seen her mother light up with so much joy since Graham had been born.  “It is?” 

“It is.”  She’d barely had a chance to get the words out before Snow flung her arms around her.  

“Oh, Emma, this is _wonderful_ news!  We’ll be able to go home—and _you’ll_ be able to go home, for real this time.  How does the castle look?  Is it still in ruins, or did Regina’s reversing the curse restore things?” 

“Uh, it’s not too bad,” Emma replied awkwardly, returning the hug.  “Could be better, but David’s got the army working on repairs.  And in the city, too.  He says it should be habitable within a few weeks at most.” 

“I’ll be back.”  Snow was glowing.  “I need to tell Ruby and the others.  This is _so_ wonderful.”  She was practically dancing as she swept out the door in a flurry of big skirts and long hair, leaving Emma and Regina to stare at one another. 

“Her enthusiasm has always been a bit…overwhelming,” the Evil Queen said dryly.  “Drove me mad when she was a child.” 

Despite herself, Emma snickered.  “Yeah, I can imagine.” 

They shared a knowing look, and then Regina gestured tiredly at the chair next to her luxurious bed.  “I’m sick of looking up at you.  Sit down.” 

“Always the polite one, you,” she retorted, but Emma sat.  The moment she did so, her limbs started feeling like jello, and she practically melted into the chair.  For a moment, her vision swam.  “Man, when did I get so tired?” 

“Do a lot of magic today?” Regina asked immediately. 

“Yeah, a bit.  There was this demon thing.”  Emma coughed, suddenly feeling like her innards had gone through a blender. 

“All magic comes at—” 

“A price, I know. Do you really have to keep saying that?  Gold’s bad enough,” Emma cut her off, and Regina snorted out a painful sounding laugh. 

“You have no _idea_ what he used to sound like when he said that.  Trust me when I say that the way he is now is an improvement.  At least he doesn’t…glitter.” 

“Glitter?” Emma echoed, and watched Regina grimace. 

“Don’t ask.  Or, better yet, ask Rumplestiltskin to show you what he used to look like.  He might even do it, particularly if he thinks that he’ll scare the crap out of you,” the older woman replied. 

“I’ll keep that in mind…”  But Emma had no intention of asking Rumplestiltskin that—particularly when she still had plenty of questions for Regina.  So, she squared her shoulders and addressed the matter that had been bothering her.  “Why do you look so horrible after being healed?  Is that normal?” 

Was David going to look like this within a few days?  He’d been fine when Emma left, but what if there was some delayed reaction? 

“You’re not listening terribly well today, are you?” Regina replied crossly, finally learning back against the pillows once more.  Apparently, her pride had finally lost the battle with her body, and Emma had never seen her look so tired.  “I told you.  I went a few rounds with the Black Fairy.  That’s what the problem is.  And no, it’s not normal.  Get a grip, Swan.” 

“Oh.  Good.”  She tried not to sound too relieved, but it was hard.  Particularly now that she was feeling so tired. 

“Why so interested in healing all of a sudden?  You try to do it on someone?” 

“Actually, I succeeded,” Emma admitted.  “The demon thing—Rumplestiltskin said it was an elemental demon of fire—burned the hell out of my dad.” 

“And you healed him?” 

Emma frowned.  “You don’t have to sound so surprised. “ 

“Healing is advanced magic, Emma,” Regina retorted, sitting back up with a grimace.  “Even though your basis is light magic, unlike mine, it should be beyond you right now.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it takes more than emotion.  Usually.”  The Evil Queen sighed painfully.  “You’re going to have to talk to Rumple about this, Emma.  Healing…healing’s never been something I do.  And it’s probably too late for me to learn it.”

Emma would have asked more, but Regina started coughing again, and she decided that her curiosity would keep.  The thought of learning anything from Rumplestiltskin made Emma more than a little uneasy—it wasn’t that she was afraid of the older man, but he _did_ sometimes give her the creeps. Worse yet, there were moments that Rumplestiltskin could remind her almost painfully of Neal, or even Henry, and _that_ was the weirdest thing of all.  Never mind the fact that Gold was the one person in her whacked up family that she’d never really managed to connect with.  The fact that she was sleeping with his son only made the possibility of having to learn from him even more awkward.

 

****************

 

There were times Belle forgot how very powerful Rumplestiltskin was and how much influence he could wield when he so desired to.  Lord Soulis followed the pair of them out of the ballroom like a proud-but-kicked puppy, trailing Maurice and simply waiting for whatever ‘word’ Rumplestiltskin had demanded.  Oh, he’d phrased it as a request, albeit not a very polite one, but it was plain that it was nothing of the sort.  And Soulis, who was probably the most powerful single noble in the entirety of Snow and Charmings’ dual kingdoms, had acquiesced immediately.  Despite being in front of an assembled group of important nobles from his own kingdom and others. 

She loved him dearly and knew what lay beneath the mask of the monster—or the mask of whatever he was choosing to be now—so Belle didn’t often think of the amount of secular power Rumplestiltskin could exert with a simple turn of phrase.  Yet not one of those royals had objected when he’d threatened them, and none of them even stopped to think that he might not get away with killing them if he so decided to.  Just thinking of that sent a shiver down Belle’s spine.  She wished that he didn’t _have_ to act like this, but at least Rumple hadn’t turned anyone into something small and squishable.  That, she supposed, showed how much he’d grown and changed. 

Rumplestiltskin never broke stride, but his left hand came up and a simple twirl of his wrist swept magic around himself, Belle, and Soulis, and suddenly they were standing inside Rumplestiltskin’s favorite tower.  Belle was no magic user, but she knew enough to know that doing so without permission to another sorcerer was extremely rude—and getting away with it served as an undeniable display of power.  Tellingly, Soulis did not object. 

“I’m not going to ask you how _wise_ you feel your association with those…people was,” Rumplestiltskin began, releasing Belle’s arm and stepping away from her to nonchalantly examine whatever potion he had brewing on one of his worktables.  “I think we’re a bit beyond that point.” 

Soulis—a darkly handsome man, with dignified gray highlights streaking through his black hair and startlingly dark blue eyes—merely swallowed.  He looked too proud to defend himself, and confident that whatever Rumplestiltskin had singled him out for, it wasn’t to kill him.  Belle didn’t know what kind of relationship the two men had; Soulis had mentioned having been taught by Cora, but did that mean he and Rumplestiltskin knew one another, or that they didn’t?    

“So, instead,” Rumplestiltskin continued when Soulis remained wisely silent, “we’ll discuss your future.” 

“Have you something particular in mind?” Soulis asked. 

Rumplestiltskin turned to look at the other sorcerer.  “You’re new to this game.  You escaped the curse that brought the rest of us to Storybrooke, only to find that your old mentor wasn’t willing to bring you into her plans, and you wound up sheltering desperately in that ancient castle of yours, with few but your servants and ‘students’ for company.  But it’s a brave new world, now, and not the one you know.” 

“I’m waiting for you to get to your point,” Soulis responded, his eyes narrowing.  Belle suppressed a smile; so the other man did have a spine.  She couldn’t have imagined such a famously feared evil sorcerer without one, but Rumplestiltskin did tend to have that effect on people.  He did, however, answer directly: 

“Lines are being drawn.  There’s a war coming, and not one like the one these fools were playing at.  This war might very well determine the future of our entire world, and it will be decided by magic, not by armies.” 

“You’re talking about the growing conflict between the fairies and the fae.  About the Black Fairy’s return.” Soulis was plainly smart, then, in addition to being powerful. 

“Thinking about approaching her, are you?” 

Soulis hesitated before answering, but Belle saw the glint of calculation in his eyes.  “I had made no such decisions.  Yet.” 

“I’d advise you not to, dearie.  It didn’t work out terribly well for Zelena.”  Rumplestiltskin’s tone dropped a few octaves, and even Belle could hear the warning in his voice.  “And it won’t work out well for you.” 

Rumor was starting to get around that Baelfire had killed the Wicked Witch of the West, Belle knew, and Soulis was clearly taking that fact into consideration as he swallowed Rumplestiltskin’s words.  The fact that Rumplestiltskin’s son had killed a sorceress who had chosen the opposite side would be lost on very few magic users, Belle expected, and it definitely wasn’t lost on Soulis. 

“Then what choice do I have?” the other man asked stiffly, his eyes cutting to Belle as if to wonder why she was there. 

“Oh, you can _choose_ whatever you like,” Belle’s love shrugged, waved a hand, ignoring the unspoken question.  “But understand this: Danns' a'Bhàis is not the type to see you as anything other than a tool.  If you wish to preserve your independence, you’ll not choose her.  And I think we both know that Ruel Ghorm won’t have you.” 

Blue eyes sharpened.  “But you will.” 

Rumplestiltskin just smiled.   “I don’t care about your petty power plays, and I don’t care what _entertainment_ you get up to with the young women you take on as students.  That’s a problem for Snow and Charming—and you don’t want to make it mine.  But you’re human, and that’s what counts at the moment.  To me, anyway.” 

“How so?” 

“The Blue Fairy would have you follow her blindly because she is ‘right’.  The Black Fairy will have you as her devoted slave.  Neither cares to leave you the ability to _choose_ who or what you will be _,_ ” Rumplestiltskin replied seriously.  “And I don’t particularly care for that.” 

“You’re building an alliance to counter their power,” Soulis said with cautious interest, and Belle could see calculation whipping across his handsome features, could see him weighing and measuring power.  The other sorcerer had only arrived at the Dark Castle the week before, but he’d clearly heard what had happened since Rumplestiltskin had returned, and he studied the former Dark One openly. 

“I am.” 

“Why should I believe you’ll be any better than them?” 

That brought about a low chuckle.  “Tell me, my Lord, when I have _ever_ interfered in someone’s ability to choose their own path.  Oh, I’ll manipulate you to meet my own ends, but I’ve never been interested in _ruling_ anyone.  Have I?” 

A long moment of silence passed; Belle held her breath.  She could see what Rumplestiltskin was doing here, and was glad that he’d chosen honesty over manipulation. Finally, Soulis asked, very directly: “Can you match them?  The fairies?  They’re both original powers.” 

Rumplestiltskin just met his gaze levelly. 

“Yes.”

 

****************

 

He was no longer chained to the wall, at least.  Grumpy supposed that had to count for something, insignificant though it was.  The damn fae had even given him a pallet of sorts to sleep on, after healing the wounds he’d inflicted during the latest torture session.  Grumpy had lost track of how many times Norco had tortured him, only that every five or so sessions, the bastard would heal him so that he could start the process all over again.  Sometimes he even let Grumpy sleep before starting in again, and this must have been one of those times, otherwise he would not have woken up feeling so horrible. 

The physical marks of torture might have been eradicated and his wounds closed, but Grumpy felt like they were still there.  This was how it was every time, though; Norco didn’t give him time for the ache to abate before starting in on him again.  Despite himself, that thought made him shake.  Grumpy was a courageous enough dwarf, and he could take the pain, but when Norco conjured up images of Astrid in his mind to torment him… 

He remembered the last time he’d seen her, all smiles and laughter, healing yet another soldier who would not have walked again without Astrid’s help.  She’d been so brave, leaving the fairies like she had and deciding to fight—not just for their world, but for the two of them.  It had taken the pair of them a long time to admit that they really were True Love, particularly after Blue had insisted that a dwarf and a fairy couldn’t actually share anything meaningful.  Grumpy was no rebel, and hadn’t been since he’d been Dreamy, but he and Astrid had finally accepted that Blue was wrong and had decided to make a life together.  It had been an odd life, one colored by war and full of danger, but it had been _theirs._ They had been happy. 

And then Norco had killed her.  This time, Grumpy didn’t bother to try to stop the sobs that spilled over.  He wasn’t too proud to cry over the loss of his True Love, not any more.  Norco had already seen him at his worst, so why fight it?  He would save his resistance for where it counted. 

So, when a door opened in a wall where there had previously been none a few minutes later, Grumpy didn’t even bother to hide his tears.  He just lifted his head to glare at the bastard who had killed his True Love and steeled himself for the worst.

 

****************

 

Being wrapped in Charming’s arms was like coming home, but just this once, Snow wished that the timing of their reunion could be just a little bit better. 

Two weeks after Charming’s army defeated the Witch and eight days after they had retaken the castle Snow and Charming had been married in, Rumplestiltskin delivered Charming back to the Dark Castle for one final meeting of the Grand Alliance.  By that point, Snow had been made well aware of the dissension within their ranks—although Queen Leah had come to her and tried to forestall Rumplestiltskin’s revelations, Snow had learned the hard way who to trust.  Faced with the choice between Aurora’s mother and the man who had become their ally in Neverland, Snow experienced no qualms and chose Rumplestiltskin. 

She’d been more diplomatic than that when discussing the matter with Queen Leah and the other malcontents, of course, listening to their concerns and promising to address those issues in a future grand council, but Snow was no fool.  

“We have a problem,” she told her husband after they broke from their kiss.  Snow wanted nothing more than to snuggle against David’s broad chest, but they had apparently not yet earned such peace. 

“Another one?  Already?” David asked with a sigh, pulling back to look her in the eye.  His handsome face was creased with concentration, but at least he didn’t look as tired as Snow felt. 

 Eight days of trying to hold the Grand Alliance together had taken all the energy Snow had, plus Belle’s surprisingly formidable diplomatic talents.  Between them, they’d managed to win Ariel back to their side (and with her, Eric), and Sir Maurice had apparently made some inroads on convincing the Marquis de Limoges that allying _against_ his daughter’s lover was a bad idea.   Rumplestiltskin had apparently taken care of Lord Soulis, who begged leave of Snow almost immediately after that disastrous meeting, offering abject apologies and murmuring about having something to do.  But that was the limit of the good news.  The others still held out, and Snow could feel the Grand Alliance crumbling despite her best efforts to stop it. 

“The Grand Alliance is starting to fall apart,” she told him without preamble.  “I’m doing what I can, but…it’s getting bad.  Hubert and Leah are griping about everything from Regina and Rumplestiltskin to the fact that most of the Alliance has agreed to maintain our pre-curse borders.   Rumplestiltskin managed to intimidate most of them out of outright action, but that’s not going to last very long.” 

“Good intimidate or bad intimidate?” Charming asked immediately. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Snow had to smile.  “Mostly good, I think.  Belle said he was on his best behavior, more or less.” 

“Will wonders never cease.” 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Snow replied, snuggling into him.  “Graham has missed you, and _you’ve_ missed Emma’s insane magic lessons.  Regina has her teleporting all over the castle transforming everything in sight.  It’s driving Rumplestiltskin absolutely mad, and listening to the three of them rant at one another has been just a little entertaining.” 

“Oh, I bet it has,” her husband laughed with her.  “So, what do we do about this new problem?” 

“There’s a meeting this afternoon,” she admitted.  “I was really hoping you’d be back for it.  Now that people can start repopulating the kingdoms that the Witch had taken, Queen Leah is pressing for a re-addressal of _all_ the terms upon which the alliance was formed.  I am, of course, pressing for an actual treaty between all consenting kingdoms that formalizes the Alliance.” 

“Which means we’ll probably get peace, the same old borders, and no Grand Alliance.” 

“And you say you suck at politics.”  She beamed up at Charming.  No matter how bad things got, Snow knew that they could face any challenge, so long as they were together.  Hooking her arm through his, Snow led the way towards the ballroom Rumplestiltskin had grudgingly volunteered as a council chamber. 

“I _do_ suck at politics. I do the fighting, you do the talking, remember?” David reminded her, and Snow only laughed. 

“Sure you do.”

 

****************

 

The final meeting of the Grand Alliance had taken hours longer than anyone had expected, and it had taken all of Rumplestiltskin’s self-control not to storm out or start pacing.  Eventually, he’d started constructing and deconstructing various spells within his mind, ignoring the political firestorm raging in the meantime.  Belle was fully involved in the discourse, however, so he _did_ listen when she spoke, trying to hold back his proud smile every time she made mincemeat of one idiot or another.  Her father was surprisingly helpful, too, which made it the second time Sir Maurice had surprised Rumplestiltskin in the last eight days.  _Apparently, the man isn’t as much a coward as I thought he was…despite the fact that he somehow thought sending Belle over the town line was the best way to get her away from me._  

Rumplestiltskin would never forget that little incident, and he’d probably never forgive it, either.  But Belle had asked him to not hold it against her father, so he would try.  Watching Maurice support Belle fully certainly helped him hate the man a little less, anyway, so Rumplestiltskin tried to think of it in those terms while he played with magic in his mind and tuned out the politicians.  Snow was, of course, utterly brilliant in her speech extolling the continued need for the Grand Alliance, particularly while kingdoms were repopulated and the threat of the Black Fairy and the fae was dealt with.  Rumplestiltskin chose not to speak up during that impassioned plea; everyone in the room already knew what kind of problem the Black Fairy presented, and those who were inclined to listen to him already knew where he stood on that matter.  Overall, he said very little in the meeting, although his presence was more than enough to remind everyone which side he was on. 

Afterwards, while Belle and the others continued to play politics, Rumplestiltskin headed up to his workroom in his favorite tower, desperately needing the time away from prying eyes and stupid assumptions.  So, he shrugged out of his dragonhide jacket and banished it to a coat rack with a wave of one hand, falling into his favorite chair and trying to ignore the persistent stinging from his side.  He needed to think.  Watching Belle’s brilliance had only made him reconsider the same thought that had been plaguing him since she’d thrown that huge hint his way about making an honest woman out of her.  

It wasn’t that Rumplestiltskin didn’t love Belle with all his heart.  It wasn’t even that he was afraid of commitment—he’d committed to her in every conceivable way except the one that mattered to the rest of the world.  Belle _knew_ that he loved her, and he had long since decided that he would lay his heart at her feet and trust her to treat it well.  Really, it was just that a small part of Rumplestiltskin still cringed at the idea of forcing Belle to tie herself to someone so dark as he had been.  He was under no illusions.  Even with his curse broken, Rumplestiltskin was _not_ a good man, and Belle was so utterly better than that.  She deserved so much more than he could ever offer her…except that theirs was True Love. 

_True Love._ Years after she’d first kissed him, years after Rumplestiltskin had accepted the truth, he still found it utterly ludicrous.  If he stopped to think about it too much, anyway.  The likelihood of someone who had willingly taken on such a curse as he finding the single most powerful magic in any world was so infinitesimal that it was unthinkable…and yet Belle loved him as much as he loved her.  He _knew_ that, just as he knew that Belle was ready to spend the rest of her life with him.  

And Belle deserved better than being forced to wait for him to scrape up enough courage to ask her.  Taking a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin opened a hidden drawer on the bottom of his work bench.  The compartment was small, only four by four inches and just over an inch deep, but it didn’t need to be large.  The only thing in it was a small blue velvet bag, much like the one he’d once kept the shattered remnants of their chipped cup inside. 

Slowly, Rumplestiltskin removed the bag and dumped its contents into his hand, studying the ring for a long moment.  He’d made the ring back in Storybrooke, having actually started it before Belle lost her memories and became Lacey, and had finished it the night before Pan had cast his curse and everything changed.  Regina’s reversal of her curse had deposited the bag here from a similar location in his basement, which Rumplestiltskin had confirmed as soon as he had come back to his own castle after his time as a prisoner.   But being the coward he was, he’d left the ring here after making sure it had transferred over, waiting for the perfect moment that would never come so long as the war lasted. 

After all, what about their relationship had _ever_ been easy?  

Turning the ring over in his hand, Rumplestiltskin studied it, focusing past the protective spells he’d weaved into the gold and looking at the ring itself.  He had needed weeks to spin gold fine enough for this purpose, wanting the strands to be thin and pure enough to weave together.  Finally, he’d twisted eight strands together—eight for a lover who was committed and brave, for the one who kept a relationship stable and secure—fusing them with magic and twisting a ninth strand around the others to bind them together.  Numerology was part of magic, and one was for the leader, for the determined and self-assured, for Belle who always took the lead in love.  One and eight together represented the sum of her soul, everything he loved about her.  Just as the star sapphire he chose matched her eyes perfectly. 

The star sapphire was the strongest of stones after the diamond, believed by some cultures to be a powerful talisman for guiding travelers and seekers of all kinds.  He had acquired this particular star sapphire centuries before he’d even met Belle, having accepted it in a deal because of the sheer blue brilliance of the stone and how rare that was.  Still, Rumplestiltskin had never had any intention of using it…until he’d decided that the best ring he could give Belle was one he’d made himself. 

Symbolism was an inherent part of magic, so when Rumplestiltskin had started crafting the ring, weaving the strands of gold together with dexterous fingers and careful magic, he had embraced every one of those symbol to protect the woman he loved.  _Even from himself._   Committed and brave.  Stable and secure.  Determined and self-assured, the woman who kept him on a better path, the woman who made him stronger.  Belle had sought love and found it in the darkest of places, and Rumplestiltskin wove every bit of the love he’d found in her into that ring.  Four small diamonds flanked the sapphire, with the last strand of gold wrapping around those.  But the physical construction of the ring had taken much less time than the hundreds of protective spells he had pieced together—and created, in the case of many. 

Rumplestiltskin turned the ring over in his left hand, studying it.  It would protect Belle even when he could not, or protect her from _him_ , something he had been particularly desirous to do while he was the Dark One.  Now there was no curse, no demon, living inside him and always driving him towards darkness.  Rumplestiltskin could reasonably expect never to be a danger to Belle, but he had no reason to remove those spells.  In fact, now he could dig into Merlin’s memories and craft a few more. 

The fingers of his right hand glowed white, tracing over the ring from a few inches above his palm,  Magic leapt into the gold, playing over it like gentle white lightning for several seconds before disappearing into the ring.  _There._   He was done.  Now he only had to scrape up the courage to— 

“What’cha doing, Grandpa?” a young voice interrupted, and Rumplestiltskin’s head snapped up to stare at his grandson. 

“Henry.”  Surprise tore the word out of him, and Rumplestiltskin sat back in his chair.  “What are you doing here?” 

“I was bored.” 

Despite himself, Rumplestiltskin chuckled.  “Were you now?” 

He’d spent so little time with his grandson since finding out that Henry was Bae’s son that shocking day in Manhattan.  There had always been something in the way—first, his own determination that Henry was the boy who would be his undoing, and then Pan’s curse followed by Regina’s.  Rumplestiltskin had been so busy since his rescue that he’d had all of three actual conversations with the boy, and seeing Henry here made him realize that how much he had already missed.

“Yeah,” Henry admitted, grabbing a stool that had been along one wall and dragging it over to the workbench.  “Everyone else is off playing politics and trying to make nice with people who don’t really like them, ‘cept Mom, and she’s asleep again.  What are you doing?” 

“Escaping the politicians,” he replied with a wry smile. 

Henry laughed with him, and an unexpected rush of warmth raced through Rumplestiltskin.  There were times that the boy next to him reminded him so very much of Baelfire, of the innocent and loving boy his son had been before Rumplestiltskin had taken on his former curse.  Henry had Bae’s smile, and his brown eyes were practically the exact same shade as Rumplestiltskin’s own.  Family had always been very important to him—his life was defined by the actions he had taken to protect those he loved—but Rumplestiltskin suddenly realized, very guiltily, that he’d done very little to get to know his grandson. 

Still, there was time yet to fix that.  _And fix it I shall._ Against all odds, Rumplestiltskin had managed to somehow rebuild his relationship with his son, and he would no longer himself to ignore Bae’s child just because he was _busy_.  

“I thought you’d be better at tolerating them,” Henry remarked with a shrug.  “I mean, didn’t you spend a couple of hundred years manipulating people into doing what you wanted?” 

Coming from someone else, the question might have been an accusation, but Henry just sounded curious. 

“Ah, but what you’re forgetting is that I only dealt with them on _my_ terms,” Rumplestiltskin corrected his grandson.  “This”—he gestured vaguely at the door—“politicking is for royals and nobles, not for sly old tricksters like me.  That’s the other side of your family, lad.” 

Henry laughed.  “Then I must take after you, because after ten minutes of listening to Grandma Snow and Queen Leah, I thought my head was going to explode.” 

“Try not to let that literally happen.  Creates quite a mess.” 

The look of utter surprise that crossed his grandson’s face was reward enough for the quip; Rumplestiltskin could read Henry’s expression well enough to know that the lad probably didn’t think he had a sense of humor, and wasn’t precisely sure what to do with evidence to the contrary.  But, then, what had he been for most of Henry’s life?  First Gold had been his adopted mother’s rival/friend/enemy, and then Rumplestiltskin had been the looming dark presence that was neither enemy nor ally to his extended family.  The mess in Neverland had established him firmly as a protector of Henry’s, but even Rumplestiltskin had to admit that his attempt to kill himself had derailed any hopes of building a relationship based upon that. 

“So, uh, what’s that?” Henry asked after a moment’s laughter, gesturing at the ring still in Rumplestiltskin’s hand. 

Instinct reared up, and the desire to simply vanish the precious piece of jewelry and deny Henry had ever seen it was overwhelming.  Rumplestiltskin almost gave in to the urge, but stopped himself at the last minute.  Still, he wasn’t sure how to actually _answer_ the question, and found himself shrugging uncomfortably. 

“It looks kind of small for you,” his grandson commented when Rumplestiltskin said nothing, and then he saw realization dawn on Henry’s face.  The boy really was too bright for his own good.  “Is that for _Belle_?” 

Anyone else would have gotten snapped at for smirking like that; since it was Henry, Rumplestiltskin only sighed.  “And if it is?” 

“You’re gonna ask her to marry you!  That’s so awesome.  Will that make her my grandmother?” 

“Only if she says yes.”  Of course, _now_ his stomach was twisting into knots, and he was only _talking_ about asking Belle to marry him.  The fact that Rumplestiltskin knew for certain that she loved him did nothing to calm his nerves. 

 “Of course she’ll say yes,” Henry replied confidently.  “You guys are True Love, aren’t you?  I mean, my book said she almost broke your curse.” 

_People always forget,_ Belle had told Emma, and Belle had been right.  Rumplestiltskin couldn’t count the number of people who had tried to tell Belle that he was no good, that she should leave him and get away while she still could.  The first months while they had tried to rebuild their relationship hadn’t just been rocky because he’d been a fool; outsiders kept trying to “save” Belle from him.  From the Blue Fairy to Snow White, they’d all tried to convince Belle that they knew better than she did, and there were times where Rumplestiltskin had agreed with them.  But he’d learned to fight for Belle, even when he doubted himself.  True Love had to be fought for. 

“Yes,” he said softly.  “Yes, we are.” 

“Then why are you so worried?” his grandson asked cheerfully. 

Rumplestiltskin sighed again.  “Life’s not always as easy as storybooks would have it be,” he replied slowly.  “True Love is no guarantee of a happy ending.” 

“Well, not if you don’t fight for it, it isn’t,” the sage lad said.  “But you two have fought for each other lots.  I’ve _seen_ you together, and it’s obvious what you mean to each other.  She’ll say yes.” 

“I hope you’re right, Henry.”  Damn his nerves.  His voice wanted to shake, and it every bit all of the self-control Rumplestiltskin possessed to keep his tone steady.  

“I am.”  Surprisingly, Henry reached out and grabbed Rumplestiltskin’s hand, confidence shining in his brown eyes.  “You’ve got this, Grandpa.  I know it.” 

He almost snorted, almost said something ridiculously cutting and self-defensive, but somehow a smile wormed its way onto Rumplestiltskin’s face instead.  _Heart of the Truest Believer, indeed!_   “Thank you, Henry.”

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henry obviously didn’t want to leave well enough alone, and someone needed to prod this Rumplestiltskin, so he volunteered. Cheeky teenager! Next up is Chapter 35: “Control the Center”, in which Rumplestiltskin manipulates, Emma demonstrates more magic, and Regina ‘decides’ to go on a trip.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


	36. Control the Center

**_Chapter Thirty-Five—“Control the Center”_ **

 

A month passed, and then two, as the Grand Alliance’s armies eradicated the few remaining pockets of resistance.  Slowly, the tens of thousands of people sheltering in the Dark Castle and the surrounding areas began their long treks towards their respective kingdoms, heading home to lands many had not seen in over thirty years.  Meanwhile, although the fragile shell of the Grand Alliance held—various older monarchs chafed under Snow and Charming’s leadership, shooting barbs over time spent away, their bastard grandchild, and Regina’s continued presence as their friend—but the closeness of the allies began to fade as distance opened between them.  Some kingdoms remained close, such as King Midas, who remained a firm ally of Snow and Charming, but others such as King Francis, Queen Leah (still regent for her daughter Aurora’s kingdom), and King Hubert seemed determined to immediately assert their independence. 

Rumplestiltskin, however, paid the politics little mind.  Snow and Charming were more than capable of trying to keep the Grand Alliance together, and he was only interested in the fact that the alliance continued to exist.  He _was_ grateful that the Dark Castle was slowly emptying out and that his home was his own again, instead of the headquarters for the largest alliance in the history of the Enchanted Forest, but in the grand scheme of things, that seemed rather minor.  Much to Belle’s surprise, he made no move to hurry their unwelcome guests out or even complain about their continued presence.  No, he had far more pressing matters on his mind.  

While the Grand Alliance struggled and fractured, Rumplestiltskin did what he did best.  He manipulated, planned, and threw markers out to make sure that what he needed was accomplished.  This time, however, the stakes were even greater than a world-altering curse.  Now he was playing for greater stakes than ever before, and assembling an alliance of his own, one designed to counter the growing power of the fae.  Regina, Emma, Tinker Bell, and Maleficent were only the first members.  Slowly but surely, he drew others in, some more minor magic users and others of greater power.  None were his equal, or even Regina’s—but _uniting_ human magic users was what mattered. 

First to sign on was Iron John, a two hundred year old sorcerer who Rumplestiltskin had avoided for years in return for the cranky old bastard returning the favor.  Surprisingly, John’s old enemy Loelei, better known as the current Lady of the Lake, followed suit, probably to make sure that Iron John couldn’t gain too much influence too fast.  Ursula was less of a surprise (Rumplestiltskin had dealt with the Sea Witch before and knew to keep Regina away from her), as was Tink’s old friend, the Sugar Plum Fairy.  Lord Soulis brought Lord Cedric into the fold, making a matched pair of evil and entirely amoral sorcerers on their team.  Mother Goose and Ali Baba were less eager to sign on, but at the end of the second month Rumplestiltskin was able to convince both, convincing Mother Goose himself and leaving Ali Baba to Tinker Bell, who was both more diplomatic and less well-known for having concluded the deal that left Ali Baba in exile decades previously. 

Most of the members of this new alliance were none too fond of the man who had appointed himself as their leader, but they recognized his power for what it was.  None of them wanted to become slaves of the fae, and none of them were willing to put their fates in the hands of Ruel Ghorm and her fairies, either.  So they, and others, signed on, slowly but surely coming to the Dark Castle to affirm that they would play their parts.  Yet Rumplestiltskin never called them all together at one time, not wanting to tip his hand until it was too late.  Most of the others did not know who their own allies were, either, or at least not all of them—only he knew the extent of the alliance; only Rumplestiltskin knew the pieces he had in play. 

Slowly, however, word came back to him that the fae were courting magic users as well.  Doctor Facilier came to Rumplestiltskin on his own—the minor trickster being one sorcerer who Rumplestiltskin had consciously chosen not to include in his initial sweep for allies—to tell the former Dark One that several fae had come to him, promising riches and power beyond his wildest imaginings.  Rumplestiltskin promptly turned him into another double agent, knowing Facilier well enough to know that he’d look out for himself before anyone else, but perfectly happy to use the other man.  Maleficent’s place on the inside was secured already, but it didn’t hurt to have a pawn in place to back her up.  Facilier, of course, made outrageous demands about gold and power, but Rumplestiltskin reminded him that there were more than a few heroes willing to take him down, and the good Doctor wound up settling for a promise of gold instead. 

After all, everyone knew that Rumplestiltskin always kept his deals. 

Snow White and her intrepid allies might concentrate on royalty and the leadership of various kingdoms, but Rumplestiltskin dug deeper.  He focused not only on the magic users—though he gathered those first, and used them in his next step—but also on the vulnerable power brokers who usually worked behind the scenes.  Soon enough, he’d had Mother Goose and Mushu assemble a network of informants across each important town in the Enchanted Forest, informants who often had no idea that their information was ending up in Rumplestiltskin’s hands.  The towns he chose to watch were not always the bigger cities or the well-known ones, but they were always significant for magical and/or historical reasons.  Most of those towns sat on untapped power reservoirs he preferred to keep out of fae hands, but some were just legendary enough that their loss to the fae would sting particularly fiercely. 

His minions had assembled that network within the first month, and Rumplestiltskin also backed Belle’s efforts to build a second, entirely separate, spider web of informants amongst the minor nobility and those she’d befriended in Storybrooke.  His time in the Land Without Magic had taught Rumplestiltskin important lessons, after all.  Knowledge was power, and if he was going to keep their _world_ safe—a laughable thought, still—Rumplestiltskin would require power beyond that of even his immense magic. 

“You’re wasted in politics,” he said now, looking Regina in the eye.  His old pupil had finally torn herself out of Snow and Charming’s castle to come visit him two and a half months after leaving the Dark Castle.  The irony of the Evil Queen living and working with her old enemies was lost on no one, but her presence there did tend to ruffle feathers with the other royals. 

“Well, I’m glad to know how you feel about our efforts to keep the world from falling apart,” Regina snapped waspishly.  

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes.  “Oh, save the posturing, dear.  We both know you’re bored.” 

And it went without saying that although Regina was excellent when it came to intimidating Snow’s more obnoxious allies, the ones who _didn’t_ need a good fright were often unhappy to find Snow’s stepmother intimately involved in their affairs. 

“If you have something you want me to do, Rumple, just get to the point,” she countered with a knowing smile.  “You know I’m always willing to help.  For a price.” 

Damn the woman and the twinkle in her eyes. 

“And what price do you have in mind?”  He’d taught her too well, and turnabout was no fun. 

“How about _you_ owe _me_ a favor this time around?” 

 Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “How about I let you keep what you find instead?” 

“No deal.” Regina scowled.  “I’m not in the market for a pet dragon or something equally heinous.  And I’m done running around and doing your bidding without compensation.” 

“Not even a genie?” 

“Not a chance!” 

Pity.  It would have been an elegant way to control a wild card that Rumplestiltskin wasn’t particularly interested in inserting into his deck, but he’d been prepared for this eventuality.  Owing Regina a favor might be uncomfortable in the short term, but it was a price he was willing to pay.  After all, Regina had almost as much to risk as he did, and their desire to protect Henry would always unite them like nothing else could. 

“Fine,” he relented, waving a hand like a favor was nothing of consequence.  Regina, of course, knew differently, and her smile turned naughty.  She sat back, folding her hands. 

“Well, then,” his protégé purred, “why don’t you tell me exactly what it is that you want.” 

“I want you to take a trip, dearie.”  If his voice grew a little sharp and reminiscent of the imp he’d been, it was only because Regina knew better than anyone how to get under his skin. 

“To where?” 

Now it was Rumplestiltskin’s turn to grin.  Regina wanted that favor, and it was bait enough.  “To Wonderland, of course.” 

“You’re out of your mind.  Once was quite enough, thank you.” 

Rumplestiltskin only kept smiling.  And waited. 

Finally, Regina growled: “And _why_ would I want to go _there_?” 

“I want you to find a certain genie for me, and bring me his bottle.  You can have the wishes if you like—” 

“I’m not that stupid,” she interrupted, and Rumplestiltskin’s smirk turned into a genuine smile of affection.  Regina _had_ indeed learned her lessons well. 

“Well, then, offer him a deal.  His services against the fae in return for his freedom.  Which I can provide.”

“Why me?” 

“Your outlaw knows the White King.  Take him with you and things should be easier.” 

“Oh, so you’re not content manipulating one world and want to add Wonderland to your collection, too?  I didn’t think you were that ambitious,” Regina retorted. 

“I think you know me better than that,” he reminded her softly. 

Regina’s eyes met his, and he could see her putting aside sarcasm and setting her formidable mind to work.  Regina was no fool, and she knew better than any of them what he was up to—though even Regina didn’t know everything; Rumplestiltskin liked to keep his cards too close for that.  Still, she’d faced off against the Black Fairy and thus understood exactly what they were up against.  Regina was just now starting to physically and magically recover her strength after that duel, and she was not stupid enough to want to repeat the experience.  

Neither was Rumplestiltskin, particularly given the year he’d spent as Danns' a'Bhàis’ prisoner.  He knew that the Black Fairy was sniffing around even now, expanding her power base as he moved to block her.  Their chess game had started in earnest these last months, quiet though it appeared to be to anyone outside the ring.  Regina, however, clearly took the hint. 

“If you fail…we’ll all go down with you,” she pointed out. 

“If I fail, Regina, we’ll all already be doomed.”  _Me more than any other._  

Their eyes met again in silent understanding, just for a moment. 

“Fine,” Regina snapped without a trace of ire in her voice.  “I’ll do your dirty work.  But I still want that favor.” 

“Of course you do, dear.”

 

****************

 

“It worked!” Emma shouted across the entirely too spacious chambers she occupied in her parents’ infernal castle.  “Neal—Bae, whoever you are—it worked!  Look!” 

She’d turned away as the magic crackled out, only to wheel back when Henry’s voice pointed out: 

“Um, Mom, your rose is uh, growing.  I think it’s trying to eat—” 

Emma spun to see that the single rose she’d transformed out of her now-broken wristwatch was now an ever-growing rose bush _._ Or a rose _tree._   It was sprouting vines like crazy, with sharp thorns bursting out of the now-thick stems.  Vines?  The single rose had become a dozen, all winding wildly around one another.  It only took seconds to turn the watch into a rose, but now the transformation was out of control.   Now the one rose had become two dozen, and it was continuing to multiply.  Rapidly. 

“Emma, I was—holy _shit!_ ” Neal swore, backpedaling out of the doorway leading from the next room, where he’d been before Emma had called to him in her excitement.  The roses were trying to chase him, now.  “What the hell?” 

“Mom, you’ve got to stop it!” Henry cried, dodging a sudden branch of four more roses. 

“I’m working on it!” 

Desperately, Emma cleared her mind and called magic to her hands, focusing on the family she had to protect—and yes, even on Neal, who’d somehow wormed his way back into her walled-off heart.  She’d spent the last two months learning magic and magical theory from Regina while she and Neal hadn’t been travelling the kingdom and writing wrongs, and until this stupid single rose escaped her control, Emma had been doing pretty well.  But the damn thing just wouldn’t— 

“Oh.” 

Her anger had spiked, and suddenly the bush that had been creeping hungrily towards her son turned back into a single rose, the extra vines vanishing into thin air, leaving a shower of lose red petals behind.  Henry, oblivious to any danger he’d been in, beamed. 

“Way to go, Mom!” 

“Is it safe to come in, now?” Neal peeked around the doorframe, making Emma laugh. 

“Not if you keep acting like that!” she teased. 

Grinning, her lover/boyfriend/father of her child came back into the main chamber.  “Y’know, if you ever do want to actually get rid of me, I hope you use something more creative than a rabid rose bush.  Getting killed by that thing would have been seriously embarrassing.” 

“Ha.  You’re tougher than that,” Emma shot back.  “Or you’d better be, if you’re going to keep up with me.” 

“Dad’s tough,” Henry chimed in.  “He killed a dragon.” 

“With your mom’s help,” Neal pointed out, though they exchanged knowing smiles as their thirteen year old continued: 

“It’s still _so_ cool that both my parents are dragonslayers.  _And_ one Grandpa.  Or maybe both.  Has your dad killed a dragon before, Dad?” 

“I have no idea, but don’t get too excited, buddy,” Neal cautioned him before Emma could say something similar.  “You’re a bit young for this stuff.” 

“I’m almost fourteen.” 

Emma rolled her eyes.  “Thirteen and a half isn’t almost fourteen, kiddo.  Why is it that you always think I’ll forget your birthday?  I was _there_.” 

Their cheeky child only grinned.  “Gramps is still teaching me to swordfight.” 

“Better him than me,” Emma breathed.  

Her relationship with her parents was still a little awkward, and probably always would be—but having lived in their castle for two plus months helped even things out a little.  Oh, she escaped as often as possible, taking advantage of her rank and Neal’s knighthood to become something of a pair of traveling troubleshooters.  It wasn’t so different from being Storybrooke’s sheriff, and they really were making a difference in people’s lives, which Emma found she liked doing.  Her parents were so busy trying to put the kingdom back together and keep the Grand Alliance from shattering that they often missed out on the smaller details. 

Emma could never have become some stay at home political princess, and she knew it.  But this way, she got to _do_ something useful…and the longer she spent travelling and living with Neal, the happier she was with her choice.  Hook had chosen, rather surprisingly, to abandon his piratical ways and head up their kingdom’s new navy, which kept him both busy and sadly out of touch.  While Emma would always think of him as one of her closest friends, she couldn’t imagine how they might have made a relationship work in this world.  But they still wrote to one another, and he’d promised to teach Henry to sail when the current crisis quieted a little further.  Hook’s last letter had even hinted at a new romance, and Emma was happy for him. 

She also hadn’t missed the fact that Ruby had looked very smug lately and Granny was constantly grumbling about so-called gentlemen and their expensive tastes.  It was a wild and crazy life here in the Enchanted Forest, but Emma was slowly growing used to it…and finally starting to feel at home.

 

****************

 

Mulan looked so ill at ease in the Dark Castle that Belle had to work hard not to laugh.  The young warrior woman sat uncomfortably in Belle’s favorite sitting room, clearly trying not to look lost as she sipped a cup of tea. 

“Relax, Mulan,” Belle told her old friend.  “Rumplestiltskin’s not going to jump out and curse you.  He’s not even home right now.” 

“I don’t know how you live in this place,” the other woman replied feelingly.  “So much magic makes me uneasy, and the stairs tried to _bite_ me.” 

“I’m sorry about that,” she said sincerely.  “They’re usually better behaved, but the castle _does_ have a wicked sense of humor.  Rumple denies it, but I’m sure it’s at least partially his fault.” She smiled fondly.  “It usually is.” 

Mulan grimaced.  “I know you love him, Belle, but…Philip said his father still won’t trust him, no matter what is said or done.  I’m still happy to help _you_ , but…” 

“I understand.”  Belle reached out to squeeze her hand.  “Really, I do.  _I_ know that Rumplestiltskin is on our side, and that he’s changed since his curse was broken, but I appreciate the fact that it’s hard for some people to accept.” 

“We even heard of him in my village, growing up.  The Dark One was the demon that mothers used to frighten their children into behaving, saying that they’d make a deal to have him take them away if they were bad,” Mulan replied. 

“So far as I know, the only children he ever made a deal for were ones he was sending into a new home.” 

“That doesn’t help a lot,” her friend replied frankly, and all Belle could do was shrug.  Still, it was Mulan she was talking to, so the other woman squared her shoulders and changed the subject.  “I _did_ hear something you’d probably be interested in, though.  It might just be a rumor, but…” 

“Even rumors usually have some basis in truth,” Belle pointed out logically. 

“This one was about fae prisoners, so I’m not even sure if we can say that.  I heard it from a furs trader, who heard it from some other merchant, who apparently got it from some woman who a fae had seduced and left with child, but no one would tell me who _she_ was, so I couldn’t verify anything.  I would have written it off as people telling stories, but then I thought of Grumpy.” 

Belle’s heart clenched, thinking of the dwarf she’d met as Dreamy and who had always been her friend.  She’d tried to provide what comfort she could when Grumpy had lost Astrid, but Belle knew from personal experience that there really was nothing anyone could do for someone who had lost their True Love.  Like her, Grumpy had buried himself in the war effort and just tried to work away the pain, but unlike her, Grumpy didn’t have the ultimate balm of finding out that his love wasn’t actually dead at all.  There was a hole in his heart that would never mend, and Belle had not been surprised to hear that he’d attacked the fae who had killed Astrid.  Grumpy had been captured, but Belle knew he’d been hoping to die. 

And yet she couldn’t leave him there.  What Grumpy did with himself after rescue was up to him, but Belle was not the type to leave a friend to the fae’s mercy, particularly considering what she knew they had done to Rumplestiltskin.  Getting her love to talk to her about his nightmares was next to impossible, but she _had_ seen the shape he’d been in when they’d found Rumplestiltskin, and Belle was no naive fool.   There were reasons that the fae were so feared in legend, reasons people _still_ made superstitious gestures to ward off evil fairies. 

No, she wasn’t leaving Grumpy in their hands.  Not a chance.

 

****************

 

He kept not finding the right moment to ask her.  Over two months after his grandson had provided a much-needed pep talk, Rumplestiltskin _still_ hadn’t found the right moment to propose to Belle in.  In fact, while he’d been busy assembling his network of informants and Belle had been constructing one of her own, they’d barely managed to see one another—there had been a total of twelve days together during those sixty-seven that had passed, and now duty (or something like it) was about to separate them again. 

“I’ve talked to Snow and to Ruby.  They’re willing to come—Mulan can’t, since she’s expected back with Philip to finish defeating the rebels in Hubert’s kingdom, and we both know what’ll happen if _he_ realizes she’s been feeding me information,” Belle told him with a resigned smile. 

Rumplestiltskin sighed.  This was what he deserved, he supposed, for being in love with a woman who was even more driven than he was.  Although Snow White was the leader that the royals of the still-faltering Grand Alliance looked to, Belle had become the one that the _others_ listened to, and it was her contacts that kept the alliance together when Snow’s fellow royals got shifty.  Belle knew, like Rumplestiltskin did, that the battle was far from over.  The Wicked Witch of the West might have gone done, but the Black Fairy and her followers were far more dangerous, and it would take a lot more than just Excalibur to take the fae out.  Belle’s behind the scenes work kept towns and villages informed of both the threat and, more importantly, kept as many innocent people out of the line of fire as possible.  Her own network of informants was far bigger than Rumplestiltskin’s interesting alliance of sorcerers, and so far, had borne more fruit, at least in an immediate sense. 

He was so proud of her, but the fact remained that Belle was away from the Dark Castle as often as he was, and even when they were together, they were busy.  He’d kept waiting and hoping that there would be a day or so where he could sweep her off to somewhere romantic and find the perfect proposal, but Rumplestiltskin’s plans on that front had yet to pay out.  So, now he only smiled for her.  Belle was fierce and determined, and he would not have her any other way. 

“It’s not much of a lead,” he pointed out. 

Belle shrugged.  “It’s all we have, and Mulan’s not the only one who told me.  We _also_ heard it from the mayor of Caer Dallben that the nearby forest has suddenly turned into a hotbed of the fae…and that he suspects they’re keeping prisoners there.   I think it’s worth checking out.” 

“Particularly if Grumpy is there,” Rumplestiltskin sighed again.  He wasn’t particularly fond of _any_ of the dwarves, and he’d always liked Grumpy rather less than the others, but he _could_ sympathize with the dwarf who Norco had taken prisoner.  _Both for his current situation and his loss of his True Love_. 

“Exactly.”  His love smiled gently, and took Rumplestiltskin’s hand.  “I can’t leave him there, Rumple.  Caer Dallben is right on the border of Snow’s kingdom, so she’ll meet us there with a battalion of men.  If the fae try anything, we’ll be ready.” 

Worry welled up in him; although Rumplestiltskin knew Belle could handle herself—and she’d proved it a dozen times over—he couldn’t shake the apprehensive feeling growing in his gut.  “I wish you’d wait a few days.” 

“I’m not sure Grumpy can afford for us to wait a few more days.  Can you take me there?  I know you have to—” 

“I’ll take you,” he interjected.  There was no way he was letting Belle make that long ride on her own, and besides, she wouldn’t make it there in time if he did.  “Just…promise me that you’ll call if something seems to be wrong.  Anything at all.” 

“Of course.”  Dimples showed as Belle smiled, and she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.  “I’ve never been too proud to ask for help.  At least not when it’s you.” 

Her answer didn’t exactly calm Rumplestiltskin’s nerves, but he was able to smile back at her.  He didn’t want to be overbearing and offer to tag along, particularly since he _did_ need to be somewhere different.  Of course, Snow would have offered her support _now,_ just when Rumplestiltskin was off to investigate rumors that Lord Cedric was flirting with the fae.  Had he not promised Soulis that he’d be there, Rumplestiltskin would cheerfully have left Cedric for another day, but the last thing he wanted to happen was losing Soulis out of the sorcerers’ alliance, also.  Soulis wasn’t the fool Cedric was, but both would be equally comfortable with the fae.  He _thought_ Soulis was properly intimidated (and too smart to change sides), but Cedric was far more arrogant. 

Did the rumors turn out to be true, Rumplestiltskin fully expected he would end the next day having killed Lord Cedric, while Belle was busy trying to rescue a dwarf and whomever else the fae had collected over the last year or so.  

“Good,” Rumplestiltskin replied, forcing thoughts of murder aside.  “Now, unless you have other plans…?” 

Belle grimaced.  “Actually, Doc and Dopey should be here about now.  Can I take a rain check?” 

She knew him well enough to know that he’d been hinting at something, but obviously didn’t know what, so Rumplestiltskin managed a crooked smile.  “Of course you can, sweetheart.” 

It would keep.  It always did.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is Chapter 36: “Hope for the Future”, where Regina and Robin head into the Underland, Rumplestiltskin pays someone an unexpected visit, and Emma practices magic—without the results she was looking for.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, if you're interested, please check out my new fic, "The Vault", which centers on Rumplestiltskin's time in the Vault of the Dark One...and has an interesting link back to OP.


	37. Hope for the Future

**_Chapter Thirty-Six—“Hope for the Future”_ **

 

Snow, Belle decided, made one heck of a warrior queen, straight backed and utterly at home wearing armor and in the saddle.  Although David often joked that he did the fighting and Snow did the talking, the truth was that both were adept at either, and when Snow White arrived in Caer Dallben at the head of a thousand soldiers, people _noticed._  

Ruby had been with her for the entire trek across Snow and David’s kingdom, but Rumplestiltskin had dropped Belle, Doc, and Dopey off only the afternoon before.  Belle had sensed a certain amount of tension in her True Love when he’d done so, but even Rumplestiltskin admitted that he had no real basis for his concerns, only an uneasy feeling that something was going to go wrong.  When pressed, he went on to say that he wasn’t even certain that the feeling centered on _Belle_.  It might as well have concerned his own mission to bring an errant sorcerer back into the fold before Cedric spilled what few secrets he knew to the fae.  His visions were unclear and the puzzle pieces scattered, no matter how hard he tried to force them to make sense. 

So, Belle had kissed him goodbye and promised to call upon him if something went wrong.  She loved the man dearly, and always would, but there were times that his overprotective streak drove her mad.  Belle could not live her life in Rumplestiltskin’s shadow, no matter how badly he wanted to keep her safe, and he knew that.  

“So,” she asked Snow, forcing her mind to the task at hand.  “What’s the plan?” 

“We search the town,” Snow replied with a shrug.  “House by house if we have to.  There was nothing in the woods, but Mulan’s information had to come from _somewhere._ ” 

The initial rumors—both from Mulan and a second corner of Belle’s information network—had indicated that the fae were keeping prisoners in the forest outside Caer Dallben.  But they had searched the woods yesterday without finding any evidence of magic, let alone prisoners.  Tink had been able to enchant a short-ranged detector for fae magic, which Snow had brought, and Belle had retrieved Grumpy’s old pick axe for Rumplestiltskin to place a locator spell on.  But the search had so far proven fruitless, despite those tools.  They had found absolutely nothing, which left the other dwarves irritable and frustrated.  

“I’ll see if I can’t sniff anything out while your soldiers search,” Ruby volunteered. “Dwarves smell…different.” 

“They do?” Belle had never noticed, but then, she didn’t have a wolf’s nose.  

“Yeah.” Ruby grimaced.  “Spicy.  And dirty.  No matter how often they bathe, they always smell like caves.” 

The other two women smiled wanly.  They were all tired and starting to lose hope, but they would not leave Grumpy—and whatever other poor souls were imprisoned with him—to the fae’s mercy.  The longer the fae were resident in the Enchanted Forest, the more horrid stories circulated about them, and by now Belle, Snow, and Ruby all had a pretty good idea what it would mean for Grumpy to be the _pet_ of a powerful fae.  Besides, it wasn’t like they didn’t have a trick or two up their sleeves, courtesy of both Tinker Bell and Rumplestiltskin.  Bringing an actual magic user along on this quest would have tipped the fae off more quickly than arriving with an army, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t bring tools to trap a fae if they found one. 

“Okay.”  Snow squared her shoulders and gestured to her battalion commander.  “Let’s get to work.”

 

****************

 

Regina hated Wonderland and always would.  The place had seemed fascinating at first, full of, well, _wonders_ , but after a while the insanity got old.  Even though Robin, foolish man that he was, seemed to view this as a bit of an adventure, she was growing more irritable by the moment.  _Why_ did _I let Rumplestiltskin talk me into this?_ she asked herself for the hundredth time.  _Oh, right.  I got greedy and wanted that favor._   After all, if her old mentor had taught her nothing else, Rumplestiltskin had imbued in Regina the desire to gather power where she could.  She and the former Dark One might be on the same side _now,_ but owning a favor from him might matter in the future. 

He also hated owing people.  So Regina was more than happy to get under his skin like this. 

“Will’s a good sort, mostly,” Robin told her as they threaded their way through the crowd in a really seedy bar that had obviously seen better days.  It was filthy and full of filthy people, neither of which made it the type of place Regina was inclined to visit.  What had that damn turtle called this place?  The Underland?  “For a thief, anyway.  I’m not sure how he fell into this ‘White King’ business.” 

Regina snorted, sidestepping a drunk and resisting the urge to light him on fire when he leered at her.  “The same way most of us do, I imagine.  He married into it.” 

“I’m still not sure what makes him stay in this place,” her love replied, eying a pair of hookah-smoking rabbits.  “It’s a bit…odd.” 

“Says a man who’s never been to Storybrooke.  You should have tried getting used to _that_ place when you could remember the Enchanted Forest.  It was…difficult.” 

She’d been so consumed by revenge in those days that Regina had gleefully thrown herself into the Land Without Magic and embraced its eccentricities, but even with curse-supplied memories in her head, the transition had been hard.  She’d felt out of place for the first few years, felt like nothing was right and the world itself was off.  And so very empty. 

“Well, if someone’s world-shattering curse hadn’t left a few of us behind by accident, I’d know what you were talking about,” he teased her gently, and despite herself, Regina smiled. 

What _would_ have happened if she’d brought Robin and his men along to Storybrooke?  Could Regina have found love sooner, or would her heart still have been too closed off? Perhaps she’d needed to love Henry first.  After all, she’d found Robin Hood coarse and obnoxious at when her reversal of the curse had first brought them back to the Enchanted Forest; only a chance encounter when she’d been at her emotional worst had changed that.  Robin had inexplicably reached out to a hurting stranger, and Regina actually _seen_ him for the first time that day.  Somehow an undeniable attraction cropped up between them, and then they had become friends.  Seeing his lion tattoo several weeks later had almost made her flee, but Regina had managed to stop herself. 

Which was why she now found herself sitting at a rickety table with her soul mate in what was certainly _this_ world’s sleaziest bar.  Almost immediately, another drunk stumbled over, burping as he struggled to focus on Robin. 

“How much,” the drunk slurred, “for a night w’yer wench?” 

Regina’s head snapped up.  “Excuse me?” 

“She’s not for sale.” Robin took the obnoxious proposition significantly better than she did, nonchalantly sipping his ale while he reached out to grasp her hand.  The sudden warmth of his palm against hers was all that stopped Regina’s instinct to turn the offending jackass into an _actual_ jackass.  Still, she couldn’t stop herself from demanding: 

“What do you think I am?”  Yes, they were there incognito and Regina was certainly dressed nothing like a queen, but this really was ridiculous. 

“Jus’ what you look like, lass.  A good lay.” 

“A good _lay_?” she echoed incredulously.  Regina came halfway out of her chair before Robin managed to yank her back down.  What kind of people lived in this horrid little land?  If they were all drunks and fools, she despaired of getting any help from Robin’s friend.  No wonder why her mother had been in such a hurry to leave! 

“I told you,” Robin’s voice was made of iron, and when he came to his feet, his movements were slow and dangerous.  “She’s not for sale.  Now bugger off.” 

“Or what?” the drunk demanded. 

Robin smiled, suddenly all charm.  “Or I won’t buy you a drink.  Your call.” 

“Oh.  Well, then.”  The drunk swayed, and then smiled back stupidly, showing mismatched teeth, some of which Regina was certain were made of wood. 

Sitting back down casually, Robin signaled the barmaid and provided Regina’s admirer with another libation, paying for it and then tipping the barmaid generously.  The drunk stumbled off almost immediately, weaving his way through people and bumping off at least half of them in his quest to find companionship for the evening.  Regina watched him go with a snarl, only letting the spell in her left hand, the one cupped under the table, die down after he was long gone. 

“Apparently, you’re not as enticing as another mug of ale,” Robin told her cheerfully.  “Sorry, love.” 

“You should have let me turn him into a jackass,” she groused.  “It would have been fitting.” 

“This sort of place is my world, Regina,” her lover answered quietly, the forced humor fading from his eyes now that the drunk was out of earshot.  “Introducing magic into it will only get people killed.  Maybe even us.” 

She rolled her eyes.  “I can make sure it isn’t us.”  Over two months had passed since her bout with the Black Fairy.  A few lingering weaknesses persisted, but Regina was back on form, and there was certainly no one in this miserable little world that could stand up to her. 

Robin squeezed the hand he’d never let go of throughout the confrontation.  “And I’d rather it not be anyone.  I know you can defend your own honor, but let me take a round from time to time, eh?” 

She was not blushing.  Evil Queens did not _blush._

 

****************

 

“I’m going to ask your daughter to marry me.” 

The words echoed around the great hall of Maurice’s castle, and made the landed knight whirl around to face the intruder.  Moments earlier, he’d been alone with his maps, having just sent a trio of advisors away after a lengthy meeting.  Now, he found himself staring at the man who had once dealt for his daughter in this very room, sweeping her away while Maurice and others watched helplessly.  Only Belle had kept her composure that day, standing regally while the men blubbered and shied back from the monster.  Only Belle had been unafraid. 

The memory made Rumplestiltskin smile thinly.  Perhaps that had not been the best beginning for a relationship, but he would not change it now, even if he could. 

“I beg your pardon?” the larger man demanded, lurching out of his throne and to his feet.  Rumplestiltskin remained where he was, leaning casually against the wall near a window that overlooked the city Belle had grown up in.  It was a nice view. 

“I’m going to ask Belle to marry me,” he repeated.  “I have every reason to believe she’ll say yes.” 

Maurice looked like he had swallowed a particularly floppy live fish, and Rumplestiltskin fought back a laugh.  He hadn’t come to Avonlea to intentionally torment his prospective father-in-law; arriving here had been something of a whim.  But the late Lord Cedric’s lands—now owned by his much better behaved eldest son—bordered Avonlea, and it occurred to Rumplestiltskin that this was a visit he _should_ make.  Belle deserved better than anything else he might have done…and Maurice had surprised Rumplestiltskin back at the Dark Castle.  He’d not expected the former Storybrooke florist to demonstrate such courage, standing with his daughter against the likes of Leah and Hubert.  Rumplestiltskin even knew that Maurice had stayed in contact with Belle since and remained one of the Grand Alliance’s strongest supporters.  Apparently, Belle had inherited something from her father, after all. 

And this wasn’t the Land Without Magic.  Certain things were expected in the Enchanted Forest. 

“Are you asking my permission?” Maurice asked, stunned. 

Rumplestiltskin laughed softly.  “No.  But I thought you should know.” 

Tradition or no, he was not some knight come to beg for the hand of his lord’s daughter.  He was the most powerful sorcerer alive, and Rumplestiltskin _did_ have his pride.  He’d once beaten this man half to death.  He’d not come crawling to him now. 

But, if they could tolerate one another, for Belle’s sake if nothing else, perhaps this could mean something in the long run.  Perhaps they could be civil enough, even if they’d never be happy with calling one another family.  Then, without warning, a flash of light swept through Rumplestiltskin’s mind, an image of a young girl with her mother’s brown curls and his own darker eyes.  The girl was smiling and laughing, dancing amongst wildflowers—and he _knew_ her, even though he did not.  The vision staggered him, leaving Rumplestiltskin blinding and reeling.  He almost _never_ Saw anything so close to himself, and yet… 

Aware of Maurice’s eyes on him, Rumplestiltskin forcibly separated himself from the vision in time to hear the knight say: 

“And if I disagree?” 

Ah.  This, at least, he had expected.  Far more than he’d anticipated the vision of a toddler with bouncy curls and an infectious smile.  Rumplestiltskin shrugged. 

“It matters more to Belle than to me,” he replied frankly.  If Maurice was looking for an apology for his stealing Belle away a lifetime earlier, he’d be waiting an eternity.  Rumplestiltskin would not apologize.  Belle had made her choice, and no one decided her fate but her.  Even _he’d_ learned that by now.  Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath.  “But I do love your daughter.  And I want her to be happy.” 

His honesty seemed to give Maurice pause. 

“You might be on the right side this time, Rumplestiltskin, but you’re still a monster,” the knight finally said.  “How can I trust you to take care of my little girl?” 

Another man might have been offended by that, but Rumplestiltskin had worn the mantle of the beast for far too long.  “Because she’s made her choice.  I’ll never fully understand what she sees in me, but she has.  And anyone who ever tries to harm her will have to come through me first.” 

That wasn’t a threat.  It was a statement of fact, and one Maurice could actually appreciate; Rumplestiltskin saw that in his eyes.  _Good.  Heartfelt honesty is not my best color, particularly with him._  

“I’ve never seen why she loves you,” Maurice admitted.  “But I know she does.  You don’t deserve her.” 

“I know.” 

But True Love wasn’t about _deserving._   It was about fighting, and loving, and being willing to dedicate and sacrifice all that you were.  True Love was about sharing a heart; it was loving with your entire soul.  A very long time had to pass before Rumplestiltskin had understood that, and he’d needed his curse to be broken before he could fully embrace it.  He might never be a good man, but Belle’s love made him want to be better. 

“I suppose you have my blessing, then,” Maurice replied after another long moment of silence.  “For her sake. Not yours.” 

He could accept that.  Rumplestiltskin nodded, and was surprised when the next words did not stick in his throat. 

“Thank you.”

 

****************

 

Regina had flattened the obnoxious Caterpillar when he’d tried to make Robin bargain for directions.  _Her_ bargain had been simple; she’d let him live if he told them how to find who they were looking for.  Miffed, the drugged up purple worm had taken the deal, muttering about insane sorceresses and how they felt they could walk all over everyone even when they were deep in other peoples’ business.  The Caterpillar had a little magic of his own, of course, but his was nothing like Regina’s.  His power was based in fear and in secrets, in sleights of hand that he could perform like no other.  Regina, however, was not the subtle sort, particularly not once she got impatient. 

The patrons in the Underland gave them a wide berth after that, and she and Robin were able to exit in peace. 

“See?” Regina grinned at Robin.  “I told you my way was better.” 

“This time.”  He scowled.  “But will you at least let me deal with Will?  I _do_ know him, and he’ll respond very poorly to threats.” 

“Of course.  He’s your friend.” 

Regina didn’t _need_ to upstage her lover, after all.  It was just a contest that the two of them enjoyed.  That didn’t mean she’d let their fun get in the way of finding the evil sorcerer turned genie that Rumplestiltskin wanted so badly. 

“‘Friend’ might be too strong of a word,” Robin said after a moment. 

“Excuse me?” 

“He ran with the Merry Men for a while.  I know him, but I never said he was my friend.”  He smiled crookedly.  “I may have kicked him out of the band for refusing to follow my orders and stealing a magical portal from Maleficent.” 

“Oh.  Great.  So he’s a _dishonorable_ thief.  Tell me again why we’re going to him for help?” 

“Don’t look at me.  You’re the one who told me he was the so-called White King.” 

“It’s what Rumplestiltskin told me,” Regina retorted defensively.

Robin groaned.  “He really is a manipulative bastard, isn’t he?  I’ve heard the stories, but…” 

“You have _no_ idea.” 

_That little bastard is behind everything, as usual.  And here I am, doing his dirty work.  Again._  

“At least we’re having an adventure?” Robin tried to lighten the mood. 

Regina scowled.  “ _This_ is not an adventure.  _This_ is Wonderland.  I hate this place!” 

“Then where would you rather be?”  Without warning, Robin grabbed her hands and spun her around, grinning suggestively.  “Some place more romantic?  More dangerous?  More—” 

Regina cut him off with a kiss.  “More you.” 

_Less Wonderland_ went without saying.  Not for the first time, however, Regina found herself marveling at how Robin could lighten her mood with a mere smile.  There had been so much darkness in her life, but his presence was like a constant set of fireworks in her soul, brilliant and colorful, illuminating even the most unreachable parts of her battered heart.  

“I’m always game for that,” he replied a little breathlessly.  “Tell you what—when this is over: you and me, somewhere romantic, and just us.” 

She didn’t deserve this man, but Regina kissed him again, anyway. 

“You have yourself a deal,” she promised. 

The sudden surge of hope within Regina almost tore her off her feet.  A year previously, just a few months after they’d returned to the Enchanted Forest, she’d felt that she had no future.  No hope.  _Nothing._   But now…now she had this wonderful man by her side, a son who had returned and loved her still, and another precious little boy who had wormed his way into her heart.  For the first time since her mother had forced her to marry King Leopold, Regina _had a future._   And knowing that made her absolutely giddy. 

“Let’s go find your friend,” she told Robin, giving him a brilliant smile.  “Then we’ll see about winning this damn war.”

 

****************

 

“Worst. Idea. Ever.”  Emma glared at him.  “Neal, this is _your_ fault!” 

“Hey, I thought you said that you’d killed one of these things before!” he objected. 

“Not with our son here!” 

“Don’t worry, Dad.  _I_ think it’s cool,” Henry interjected, causing both his parents to turn their glares on him.  

“You’re not helping!” they snapped in unison, but their thirteen year old only laughed. 

“You guys are so cute.” 

“Henry!” Emma snarled, but quickly turned back to look at her hands.  

“Don’t torment your mom, bud.  She’s trying to do magic,” Bae told his son. 

“I know, and it’s awesome!”  Of course Henry was enthusiastic about Emma using magic.  He always had been.  It meant that both his mothers could be powerful sorceresses, and Bae knew that the day _Henry_ started asking about magic wasn’t far away.  The thought still made him uneasy, and Bae often had to remind himself that he had accepted that magic was a part of his life.  Still, it was one thing for Emma to become a sorceress, weird though the concept was.  His son, on the other hand, was just about the age Bae had been when magic had barged its disastrous way into his life. 

Making a mental note to talk to his own father about Henry, Bae returned his attention to the pair of chimeras who were trying to batter their way through the shield Emma had hastily created a few minutes earlier.  Of course, her magic kept everything else out as effectively as it kept the chimeras _in_ , which meant Bae couldn’t just shoot the beasts while they were trapped.  Emma either had to kill them with magic or let them out, and neither was eager to do the later while their son was there. 

“He is _so_ your son!” Emma snarled. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Bae and Henry laughed together.  The three of them had been off for a short trip, sent by David to sort out a minor dispute between landowners on the southern side of the kingdom.  Actually, Emma had been sent, to help her grow into her role as a princess, but Bae and Henry had tagged along.  They’d never expected one of the nearby towns to be plagued by a pair of magical beasts that kept trying to eat their children, but Bae and Emma’s intention to send Henry home before dealing with the problem—or at least leave him somewhere safe—had been derailed by Henry himself.  Of course their boy wanted to _help_ , and he’d managed to save a pair of four year olds from the chimeras, only to be almost eaten himself. 

That, of course, was why Emma had pinned the creatures into a magical ball and was now trying to kill them.  Normally, they’d have gone after the pair with swords or at least a crossbow, but normally their son wasn’t in danger.  _And loving every minute of it._  

“I was not this crazy as a child,” he retorted.  “Unlike _some_ children, I stayed out of the way when I was told to.” 

Henry snorted.  “Sure you did, Dad.” 

Glaring at Henry again got him nowhere, and he really wasn’t very angry at his son, anyway.  Bae just hated standing here waiting for Emma to kill something.  It wasn’t like she wasn’t _good_ at it, but they had proven to be a damned good team, so sitting on the sidelines was really irksome.  

Finally, the chimeras dropped to the ground, no longer breathing while Emma grinned tiredly but triumphantly.  Henry hugged her. 

“See, Mom?  I told you you could do it.” 

Emma rolled her eyes, exchanging a look with Bae.  Henry seemed to take every time Emma used magic as a victory of sorts—but then again, he _had_ been a little bit instrumental in helping her decide to learn.  “Sure you did, kid.” 

“C’mon, you two,” Bae spoke up, wrapping an arm around Emma to drag his family along.  “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.  If we head out now, we can make it back to Lord Soulis’ castle by nightfall.” 

“Cool!  I love staying with evil sorcerers,” Henry replied immediately, and Emma groaned. 

“Great idea, Neal.  Just great.” 

“Hey, he’s one of your parents’ most influential lords,” Bae objected.  “ _And_ your dad wanted us to drop in on him while your mom’s away.  Don’t blame me for this one.” 

“Fine.  I’ll punch David when we get back, then.”  But she didn’t mean it, even if Henry did answer a little seriously: 

“I don’t think you’re allowed to punch kings, Mom.  Even if you are a princess.” 

Bae couldn’t help laughing at that one, and after a moment, the other two joined in.  Yeah, his life wasn’t anything like he’d once thought it would be, but damn things were pretty good.  Even if he did sometimes wind up as the metaphorical royal cloak holder while the princess he’d fallen in love with slayed demons, life was _good_.

 

****************

 

One moment, they’d been staring at a blank outer wall of a blacksmith’s shop on the outskirts of town.  The next, courtesy of a sprinkle of fairy dust thrown by Snow (which had been ‘acquired’ by unknown means through Tinker Bell), they had found the doorway Ruby had insisted must be there.  Whatever magic that had been shielding the door had been impervious to all their methods of detection, but Ruby has smelled Grumpy beyond the wall.  Even the locator spell on Grumpy’s pick axe had been fooled—the axe was probably still doing laps of Caer Dallben’s town square while people ducked its inadvertent efforts to decapitate anyone in its path—but Ruby’s nose had won the day. 

Snow, Belle, and Ruby came through the doors together, weapons in hand and ready for anything.  A dozen soldiers were on their heels, and Belle held the net designed to trap a fae, but there was only one occupant in the entire spacious room.  It looked like the inside of a barn, but smelled of old blood and pain. 

“Oh, no,” Snow White’s most loyal dwarf greeted them, his voice muffled by a bloody and swollen face.  “What are _you_ doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in updating this chapter—real life got in the way and writing got hard. Thank you for sticking with me! Questions going forward: 1) Why do you think Grumpy is so worried about Snow and company finding him? 2) Do you think that Rumplestiltskin will manage to pop the question any time soon, or will too many interruptions happen?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 37: “Family Ties”, in which Rumplestiltskin stops by to give Emma magic lessons and David learns something that really ticks him off.


	38. Family Ties

**_Chapter Thirty-Seven—“Family Ties”_ **

 

“So,” Bae said with an amused smile.  “You’re really here to give Emma magic lessons, huh?” 

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help chuckling.  Although at first he’d been slightly stung by his son’s decision to move into Snow and Charming’s castle vice staying at the Dark Castle, he now understood Baelfire’s reasoning, particularly since Bae’s relationship with Emma seemed to only have deepened in the meantime.  The Savior wasn’t exactly the woman Rumplestiltskin would have chosen for his only son, but Emma _was_ the one Bae had chosen for himself.  Bae clearly loved her…and then there was Henry. 

The lad really was growing on Rumplestiltskin.  When he’d arrived that morning, his grandson had greeted him with a hug, almost startling Rumplestiltskin into throwing a curse until he’d realized who it was.  He wasn’t accustomed to accepting such easy affection from anyone save Belle and Baelfire—and even then, his relationship with his son still sometimes bore signs of its earlier strain.  They were doing better, now, standing and watching Henry during one of his horseback riding lessons with Snow’s Master of Horse, but there were still moments when things between them got awkward. 

Rumplestiltskin sincerely hoped this would not be one of them.  Magic had been a sensitive subject since he’d taken on a curse he did not understand, and it had never occurred to him to ask Bae how he felt about Emma learning magic.  It was Emma’s choice, of course—and he assumed she and Bae had spoken of it—but Bae might feel very differently now that Rumplestiltskin was taking a role in it. 

“Yeah,” he answered.  “I suppose I am.  Now that I’ve finished tying up other lose ends.” 

“Loose ends?” his son echoed. 

Rumplestiltskin gestured at Henry, who was whooping with delight on board the horse he’d been given.  “That one’s other grandfather.  That Grand Alliance of Snow’s is still on shaky legs, and we needed to have a little chat.” 

“A good chat or a bad chat?” Bae asked warily, making his father shrug. 

“A chat.  Nothing serious.”  Rumplestiltskin smiled crookedly.  “I’m beyond the point of threatening people for fun, Bae.  Particularly these people.” 

Bae flushed.  “Sorry.  I guess that old paranoia dies hard…and I’m kind of invested here, y’know?” 

Together, their eyes travelled to Henry as the boy dismounted and bounced over to meet them.  His enthusiasm was contagious, and reminded Rumplestiltskin very strongly of a young Baelfire, all smiles and optimism, certain that everything would work out in his world.  “I know, son.  As well you should be.” 

“Thanks, Papa.” 

Their eyes met briefly, and Rumplestiltskin felt a rush of pride in his boy.  He would never forgive himself for having let his son go, for not having been there as Bae grew up, but damn it all if his boy hadn’t grown into a hell of a man.  In the last year alone, Bae had fought and won a war, earned a knighthood, and seemed to be working out a relationship with the woman he loved.  And now that man had a son of his own, a brilliant little boy who hugged his father and then his grandfather. 

“Did you see, Dad?” Henry asked excitedly.  “I’m learning to jump.  Did you see?”

Thirteen or not, Henry was still a boy who had born in the Land Without Magic and was reveling in the fact that he now lived in a fairytale world.  He got to use swords, ride horses, and live in a castle—all things that practically every little boy dreamed of, and now they were his reality.  He was glowing with pride in himself, and Rumplestiltskin was a little surprised by how easily he returned his grandson’s embrace.   

“We saw, bud,” Bae grinned back. “You’re doing pretty good.  Soon enough, you’ll be racing around like a pro.” 

“You bet I will,” Henry replied, and then abruptly turned to Rumplestiltskin and changed the subject.  “So, did you ask Belle yet, Grandpa?” 

The unexpected question made Rumplestiltskin rock back on his heels, and before he could stop his eyes from going wide, an entirely too comical look of shock whipped across his face.  Yes, he’d talked about this with Henry over two months ago, but the boy had promised—oh, so solemnly—to keep it to himself, and Rumplestiltskin hadn’t expected Henry to blurt that out here, of all places.  The sudden knowing grin on Bae’s face was bad enough; if the Charmings got wind of this, he’d _never_ manage to live it down.  Or have a bit of privacy.  Thank goodness Snow was off with Belle.  If the damn too-good queen heard of this, she’d take over wedding planning in a heartbeat and Rumplestiltskin would _never_ get a say in how things went down. 

Throttling back his panic was hard, but Rumplestiltskin finally managed to conceal his attack of nerves behind a blank façade, only to have his son ask cheerfully: 

“Way to go, Pop!  It’s about damn time you popped the question.” 

“Bae, I—” 

“You haven’t yet, have you?” Henry’s question wasn’t an accusation; he just looked a little disappointed, an expression that made Rumplestiltskin’s heart twist unexpectedly. 

“We’ve been busy,” he explained lamely.  “Things keep coming up.” 

“That’s a load of crap,” Bae snorted, though at least his tone was light, despite the dirty look his father gave him.  Having his curse broken might have made Rumplestiltskin a _little_ less likely to hate himself, but even he knew that he was still fragile in odd ways, and particularly vulnerable when faced with his son’s disapproval.   After all, at his core he was still the same lonely spinner, even if his outer veneer had been changed by power.  “It takes like five minutes.  An hour if you want to do it right, tops.” 

But even the most brittle steel could be tempered by enough fire, and so Rumplestiltskin dredged up a droll look to throw his son’s way.  “Unless you want _me_ dabbling in your love life, son, don’t throw stones at mine.” 

“Point taken.”  Bae blanched, but his son snickered. 

“ _I_ don’t have a love live for you to dabble in, Grandpa,” the boy said with a mischievous grin.   “When are you going to ask her?” 

“As soon as people and events stop interrupting us,” Rumplestiltskin admitted with a sigh.  He loved having family, but there were times when precious and bright lads could be a damned inconvenience.  

“You promise you’re not chickening out, then?” Bless the lad; he looked concerned.  And he’d said that without any knowledge of his grandfather’s previous live as the village coward, which meant Henry only had the best of intentions.  Bae looked a little startled, but Rumplestiltskin waved his son’s concern aside.  He even managed a smile. 

“I promise, Henry.” 

 

****************

 

Caer Dallben wasn’t a terribly big down, but it wasn’t tiny, either.  And that meant that there was plenty of space for Snow, Ruby, and Belle in a local inn, not to mention a good healer to bring Grumpy back from his half-dead state.  They’d had some anxious moments, there—all three women were close to the dwarf for various reasons—but in the end the healer had promised that Grumpy would be all right after a few days’ rest.  Of course, Grumpy went and got up as soon as the healer left, skewering Snow with a glare when she tried to sweet talk him into getting back in bed. 

“We don’t have time for that,” Grumpy ground out, his face still a little swollen but his eyes more alive than Belle had seen them since before Astrid’s death.  Still, Snow wasn’t the only one worried about their friend, so she pointed out: 

“You still need time to heal, Grumpy,” Belle said as reasonably as she could.  “The healer said that you could unravel all the work she did if you start running around immediately.” 

“Fine.  Then I’ll walk,” the dwarf said gruffly.  “But not too slowly.  That bastard fae that held me has other prisoners, and I overheard him saying where they were once.  I’m not gonna let him hurt anyone else.  Not while I’m breathing.” 

“Okay, then,” Ruby spoke up.  “Just tell us where they are, and we’ll take this little army of Snow’s after them while you get better.” 

Grumpy twisted to glare at the werewolf.  “I’m not staying behind, sister.  I’m sick of being that sicko’s victim, and I’m going to fight back.  Starting now.” 

“Grumpy…” Snow tried, but the dwarf shook his head adamantly. 

“No way.  I’m coming with you, and we’re going to rescue everyone, no matter what that son of a bitch tries to do to stop us.” 

A sad smile tugged at Belle’s face as she listened to her old friend’s determination.  She knew how he felt in a very real way; when she had thought she’s lost Rumplestiltskin, Belle had wanted desperately to keep fighting.  Maybe she had hoped that taking her grief out on an enemy would make the pain go away, or maybe she just wanted an outlet for all those negative emotions.   Losing Astrid had made Grumpy reckless before, and despite his horrific treatment at the hands of the fae, he hadn’t obviously deviated from that course one bit.  Still, she couldn’t blame him. 

“What else do you know about the fae that held you?” she interjected.  After all, if the fae had let information about other prisoners slip, what other useful information might he have mentioned in Grumpy’s hearing? 

“Other than the fact that he’s a sick bastard?” Grumpy snarled before shaking himself.  “He’s powerful.  I saw him with a few other fae a few times.  Three women.  They seemed to defer to him.  And he expected that.” 

“That’s not good,” Ruby put in, exchanging a glance with Snow.  “Tink was telling us a few weeks ago about how there aren’t many male fae, but when they’re powerful, they’re _powerful._   And dangerous.” 

“I think that goes without saying,” Belle murmured, studying Grumpy.  The dwarf obviously wanted nothing to do with their pity—although he _had_ let Snow hug him earlier—but he wasn’t okay.  That was obvious, and she wished she could help him. 

“His name is Norco,” Grumpy volunteered after a moment, his face twisting up in a snarl.  “Might be short for something, but that’s what the others called him.” 

“Norco?” Snow echoed, just as an invisible fist of shock seemed to punch Belle in the chest. 

“Oh, no,” she choked out when she felt able to breathe.  

“What?” Snow and Ruby turned to look at her together, but Belle glanced at Grumpy. 

“Norco?  You’re sure?” 

“It’s not something I’m likely to forget.” 

“Right.  Of course.”  Belle swallowed hard, and then sucked in a deep breath.  “That’s the name of the fae that stabbed Rumplestiltskin.  The one he fought with.  And unless the fae like to share names…it’s even worse than you thought.”

 

****************

 

“You’re not thinking enough,” the former pawnbroker commented idly, making Emma groan. 

“Regina says I think too much,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. 

“Of course she does,” he snorted.  “Regina’s impatient.  Finesse isn’t her style; raw power and awe-inspiring acts of vengeance are.  Why do you think _I_ wrote the curse?  Regina wouldn’t have had the patience to sit down for half a hundred years and work _that_ out.” 

Despite her annoyance, Emma chuckled.  “No, I really couldn’t see her doing that.  Not unless you tied her down, anyway.” 

Rumplestiltskin shot her a stern look, but Emma could see amusement dancing in his eyes.  “Not a mental image I needed today, dearie.” 

“Well, if I have to have it, you do, too,” she shot back, and much to her surprise, Neal’s father laughed. 

“I can fix that, you know,” he replied, wiggling his fingers threateningly.  “Pull the thought right out of your head.  Smash it to bits.” 

“You can do that?” 

He shrugged, and then seemed to realize that Emma was asking a serious question.  “Well, it’s messy, but yes.  Though if you start pulling too many memories or thoughts out of someone, they start to…fade.  Messing around in a mind does a lot of damage, particularly if you’re not careful.  Potions are better for that sort of work, but it’s still something you have to do with caution.” 

Thinking about rooting around in someone’s memories actually made Emma feel rather sick.  Not for the first time, she realized that she’d really had no idea what she was getting into when she’d agreed to start learning magic.  At least with Regina there had been a definite focus to her lessons; Regina _wasn’t_ patient, and didn’t much care for preaching magical theory.  Regina just wanted to get straight to the point of breaking things or making events happen.  She’d taught Emma fireballs and teleporting, how to fight and (sometimes) when not to, but even Regina had admitted that there were things she couldn’t teach, mostly because she’d never been interested in learning them herself. 

That, of course, was why she’d wound up with Rumple-freaking-stiltskin in her chambers at her parents’ castle, leaving Emma to cope with him while Neal and Henry were off having fun.  It was a beautiful day outside, too, not too hot and not too cold, and Emma really would have liked to be out with those two instead of cooped up in here with her son’s less-conventional grandfather.  Particularly since the castle was _still_ stuffy despite the temperature outside. 

“Haven’t you people ever heard of air conditioning?” she grumbled instead of digging further into the matter of erasing memories and such. 

“Of course not.  No one here had ever heard of electricity, either, or at least not until we wound up in Storybrooke.” 

“Then how come _your_ castle never got this stuffy?” Emma demanded. 

“That’s because although central air might be a bit of a stretch given our technology base, _magic_ can manage the temperature inside the Dark Castle well enough,” her new teacher replied with a smirk. 

Ever practical, she asked the first question that came to mind: “Can I learn that?” 

“I don’t see why not.  It isn’t a particularly hard spell, at least not with how powerful you could be if you let yourself.” 

 _That again.  Why does everyone want to tell me how powerful I could be?_ Emma managed not to groan, but only barely.  “Then teach me.” 

“Oh, not so fast, dear.  First, you’re going to work on healing—and on doing it properly, not that slipshod job you did on your father,” Rumplestiltskin told her, leaning back in his chair, leather pants creaking slightly as he did so.  Why _did_ all the men with money in this world wear leather pants?  Not that Emma minded the way they looked on Neal, but it really was a bit off-putting on her father and on this man, whatever his relationship to her was.  But when she shoved that thought aside and went to object to his characterization of the rushed healing job she’d done on David, Rumplestiltskin held up a hand to forestall her.  “I didn’t say that it didn’t _work_ , but you’re supposed to be not the proverbial bull in the Land Without Magic china shop, either.  You’re going to be a sorceress, not a wrecking ball.  You need to know when to use finesse over raw power.” 

“It worked,” Emma protested weakly.  Being a wrecking ball was so much easier!  Wasn’t this the man who had accused her of having her father’s (lack of) tact? 

“So it did.  But if you had been a tad less emotional, a little less likely to feel your heart break, you would never have managed to save him.  Depending upon raw emotion is _dangerous_ , Emma.  Use it when you must, but if you try to base all of your magic on the emotion of the moment, you will get unpredictable results.  And you’ll burn yourself out.” 

“Yeah, I think I already noticed that,” she replied, nodding and remembering a few of her own mishaps.  Like how exhausted she’d been after using magic to pin an entire dragon in place while Neal killed it, or how she’d almost collapsed on top of her own mother after healing her father.  

“Magic isn’t a bottomless pit,” he told her.  “It’s a balancing act.  _Every_ bit of magic you use has an associated price, whether it’s one you take on personally or something else.  You have to manage that, and the _first_ way you do that is with skill and finesse.  By not letting your emotions—and therefore your magic—run away from you.” 

Emma had never really thought of how Rumplestiltskin would be as a teacher; somehow, she had expected someone a lot more like Regina, who liked to stick her on the edge of a cliff, and then start an avalanche, just to see if Emma’s magic would catch her.  Instead, she found herself faced with someone who was almost—scratch almost, clearly _was_ —an academic, who spoke of magic with well thought out logic and like it was something to be studied, not just felt.  Emma had never been much for book learning, but she _had_ learned to research her targets when she’d been a bail bondsperson, so she did understand how studying could matter.  So, she put her thinking cap on and asked the question that had been bothering her. 

“What happens when you can’t find the price?” 

“That means you’ve lost control of it, and the magic has chosen for you,” he answered.  Emma found it interesting that Rumplestiltskin didn’t include a snide comment; apparently, he _was_ capable of carrying on the bulk of a conversation without making one.  “When did that happen?” 

“A few times.  Mainly when I froze a dragon.  Not with ice—I just kept it still, somehow.  With emotion, I guess.” 

“Ah.”  Rumplestiltskin grimaced.  “I expect that there’s a baby dragon being born somewhere, then.” 

 _“What?”_  

“Well, magic _does_ tend to like congruency.  The greater the magic, the greater the consequences.  Stopping a dragon takes an enormous amount of power—there’s a reason why sorcerers like yours truly send heroes like your father after them instead of dealing with them ourselves—” 

“Says the guy wearing dragonhide,” Emma interjected pointedly, and was surprised, again, when he laughed at her remark. 

“That’s a different story, dear, back from when I was younger and dumber,” Rumplestiltskin replied with a quirky smile.  “But, as I was saying, magic will choose its own price if _you_ don’t tell it what the price is going to be.  Sometimes you can’t do that, such as when Regina reversed the curse and had to leave Henry behind, but usually a careful sorcerer can manipulate it to his or her advantage.  If you don’t, and you, say, slay a dragon, odds are that the eventual price will be another dragon being born.  That _is_ where they come from, after all.” 

“You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” she asked with a sigh, wishing that she thought he was lying. 

“Not in the slightest.” 

“Damn.” 

Dark eyes that were disturbingly like Henry’s studied her intently.  “Indeed.” 

Rumplestiltskin seemed to be waiting for Emma to come to some sort of conclusion, so she racked her brain for the answer to whatever he was looking for, finally returning to his original comment about her not thinking enough.  Was that why he’d gone off onto this tangent about control?  “So,” she asked after a moment, “how do I think _enough?_ ” 

His smile returned, now a real smile that told Emma she had finally found the right question to ask.  One slender finger pointed at her.  “Now you’re talking.  You have to merge your feelings with your mind.  Do it on a conscious level, and you have the chance of becoming something extraordinary.  Fail and, well, you don’t.” 

“Which one is Regina?” Emma had to ask. 

“Neither and both,” was the immediate response.  “Regina’s a creature of emotion.  She _feels_ so strongly that for her to tap into anything other than those emotions would almost make her magic less powerful.  You, on the other hand, have always thought too much.  Now it’s time for you to learn to use that.” 

“That’ll teach me to heal people?”  She was starting to wonder if Rumplestiltskin was blowing sunshine up her skirts, or if he was just enjoying the lecture.  After all, he always had an ulterior motive. 

“Don’t doubt so much, Emma,” he said softly, and then quirked another smile.  “In fact, let me show you something.” 

His hands came up, suddenly glowing blue and purple.  They came together, with a ball of pure magic—now gleaming with hints of white and gold, too—forming between them.  Light played between his fingers for several seconds, and Emma could _feel_ the power filling the air.  Then Rumplestiltskin’s hands opened, and he flung the glowing ball at the ceiling.  The magic separated immediately, threads and strands of all colors filling the air and dancing in front of her while Emma stared.  The sight was oddly beautiful, on both a visual and a magical level, layered and complex, light and dark all at once. 

“What is that?” she whispered. 

“This is your lesson for today,” Rumplestiltskin replied.   “You’re going to learn to _think_ about magic, to deconstruct it and build it, and to make it work for you rather than the other way around.” 

“That sounds hard.” 

“Oh, it is.  But I’ll show you how.”

 

****************

 

David hated holding court on principle.  He hated watching all the self-important nobles flock into his and Snow’s castle, watching them tell one another how powerful they were, and listening to them tell everyone _else_ how much _their_ concerns should be the most important thing on the monarchs’ minds.  Now, he didn’t mind at all the days when he and Snow opened the floor to all and sundry, to the so-called ‘little people’ who he hadn’t forgotten being one of, and listened to _their_ concerns instead of to those of the nobility.  By and large, David found that he learned a lot more from the peasants, and they were usually much more gracious about accepting decisions that were designed to be fair for everyone, instead of just profiting a select few.  Generally speaking, the nobles who came to complain weren’t so open minded, and they drove him insane. 

Usually, having Snow around helped ease the burden considerably.  She was a born diplomat (for all they’d met with her braining him with a rock), and people just _responded_ to her in ways that they didn’t respond to him.  But Snow was way off in Caer Dallben, and that left David to juggle the peasants, the nobility, and even the ambassadors from four different kingdoms on his own.  Oh, and one foreign prince. 

At least he knew Thomas, and if the younger man was sometimes a pain in the neck, he was still a friend.  And at least Thomas didn’t seem to want anything.  Today. 

David hid his grimace with an effort, reaching out a hand to shake Thomas’ after the ambassador from King Midas’ kingdom backed away, bowing.  The ambassador had been there to renegotiate an old trade treaty, and David was more than happy with the results.  The kingdom’s respective ministers of trade would have to work out the details, but the framework was something both he and Midas could agree upon, and also something he was sure Snow would be happy with when she got home.  The two of them ran their kingdoms as a team, and any questionable decisions were made together, but this was one that should pose a problem.  Even though some of the other monarchs of the Grand Alliance were proving squirrely in the aftermath of the war, Midas wasn’t one of them.  Given that Midas’ kingdom bordered the one David had (more or less) inherited from the still-exiled King George, firm alliances between them were a good thing. 

Thomas took the proffered hand with a smile, but David could see something lurking behind the expression of a practiced politician.  Instinct reared up, and he reached out to take Thomas by the arm and lead him a few steps away from all the curious listeners.  “Something wrong?” 

“Why would something be wrong?” Thomas replied uneasily, and David watched him swallow hard. 

“Thomas, I’ve got a line of nobles who want to lie to me wrapped halfway around the castle.  Please don’t add yourself to the list.”  Only knowing how many ears were straining to overhear their conversation helped David keep his voice low, but he really was sick of this game.  

Or maybe he just missed Snow.  David always got crankier when she wasn’t around. 

“Sorry,” the younger prince replied quietly.  They had an odd friendship, David and Thomas, having met when they were both princes and supposedly equals.  These days, David was a king, but now Thomas also knew that David had been born a shepherd, a fact that made a lot of their fellow royals less comfortable with David, despite the fact that he’d successfully led them through the war against the Wicked Witch.  Thomas, however, seemed at least happy to work with David, despite the fact that he possessed a full measure of the inherited snobbery he’d inherited from his father. 

“So, what’s up?” David asked. 

“Officially, I’m here on behalf of my father and my kingdom.  Father would like to propose a marriage between our kingdoms to tie us closer together.” 

David started.  He supposed he should have expected this, but Graham was only a few months old.  “I’ll discuss it with Snow when she gets back, but I think Graham’s a bit young to be making promises for so far, even if Alexandra’s only a couple years off his age.”

“I didn’t mean for Graham.  Father’s offering my brother Charles for Emma,” Thomas replied with a crooked smile, and David twisted to stare at him. 

“For _Emma_?” he echoed incredulously. 

“She _is_ your heir, right?” Thomas asked, sounding like he was trying to sound casual and failing.  Even he looked uncomfortable with the idea, and no wonder—Charles was a year younger than Thomas, which made him almost a decade Emma’s junior.  So far as David knew, the two had never met, either, and next to Emma, Charles seemed like a spoiled teenager. Thomas just shrugged, however, and continued.  “If she is, she’s got to have legitimate child at some point, and, well, begging your pardon, but Emma’s not getting any younger.” 

“She’s got to… _what_?” It took a moment for David’s brain to catch up to the words he had heard.  “Henry is…” 

Damn.  He’d never even thought about his grandson in dynastic terms; for David, the fact that Henry was Emma’s son had always been good enough for him.  His adoption by Regina didn’t count for much here in the Enchanted Forest—and if it did, it only made him Snow’s younger stepbrother, with no claim on her throne—but being _Emma’s_ son put him in line for two thrones.  Or would…if he had been born in wedlock. 

They could fix that, of course.  He and Snow could issue a joint proclamation and legitimize Henry by royal decree, but that wouldn’t change how other kingdoms viewed him.  As such things were considered here in the Enchanted Forest, Henry _was_ a bastard, even if he was the son of a princess.  The Land Without Magic hadn’t really seen things like that, but now they were home again.  _And if any of these stuck up royals even_ think _about calling Henry a bastard to his face, I’ll strangle the lot of them!_ Of course, Henry couldbe considered a prince due to his adoption by Regina, but considering him that would deny his place as Emma’s son.  It was a complicated mess, made worse by the fact that Emma now seemed to have gotten back together with Neal/Baelfire, and if the two of them _did_ wind up marrying, retroactively legitimizing Henry based on that would be fairly easy.  But it was still a mess, one that he’d somehow failed to anticipate.  

 _Great._ It was just what he needed right now, another problem.  Still, David had never shied away from unpleasant conversations, so he squared his shoulders and swallowed his shock.  

“Emma’s…not a good option for a political match.  She’s old enough to make her own choices,” he said as diplomatically as he could.  “And besides, if she never has any other children, Henry’s good enough for us.” 

“You mean you’re going to keep letting her…be with that commoner?” Thomas asked in shock, and David leveled a glare at him. 

“ _Sir_ Baelfire has our blessing to court Emma,” he said pointedly, shooting Thomas another glare, one that told him that David didn’t care to listen to any arguments right now.  “Was there anything else?” 

Thomas swallowed back what had obviously been some sort of retort, and then nodded very slowly.  His voice dropped to almost a whisper.  “There is something else.  Something…my father is doing.  Or thinking of, anyway.  I’m not sure.” 

“Like what?” 

“We had a visitor right before I left,” the young prince replied, looking around nervously.  “The Black Fairy.” 

“ _What?”_  

David felt his eyes going wide, but he couldn’t help the reaction.  Aside from her appearance at Graham’s christening and the battle with Regina when she’d tried to take Henry, _no one_ had seen the Black Fairy since her reappearance in the world.  She remained a figure of as much mystery as danger, one who everyone knew was out there but no one really _knew_.  Rumors flew constantly about what the fae were up to and what the Black Fairy wanted, but it wasn’t like anyone had had the guts to ask her.  Or the opportunity. 

Thomas nodded shakily.  “She spoke to my father about an alliance between our kingdom and the fae,” he whispered.  “She talked a lot about how she could protect us…and how she offers freedom from the Blue Fairy’s ‘moral superiority’.  She said that Eric’s father’s already allied with her…but that’s probably because the fae kidnapped Ariel.” 

David blinked hard at that news.  _Poor Ariel.  She just can’t catch a break, can she?_   “Damn,” he said quietly, and then realized something.  “Your father doesn’t know you’re telling me, does he?” 

“No.  He’s thinking about taking her up on the offer.  He’s worried that she might try the same trick with us…and Ella’s pregnant again.  We can’t risk her.” 

 _Or the possibility of an heir, which is what is undoubtedly on Francis’ mind,_ David thought to himself but did not say.  He knew the wily old man well enough to know that he wouldn’t cry any tears for a lost daughter-in-law, no matter how much his son loved her, but he _would_ risk a great deal for any grandson that Ella might be carrying. 

“Thank you for the warning,” David replied after a heavy moment.  “I guess…we’ll keep an eye out.” 

There was nothing else he could do at the moment, nothing else except wait and see what would happen.  Despite all their hard work, the Grand Alliance _was_ failing, and David could only hope that the world would survive whatever came next.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a day late – I spent last night and much of this morning at the emergency vet with one of my dogs, which put a serious cramp in, well, everything. Thankfully, my pup is going to be okay, which freed me up to post this. Questions from this chapter: 1) Do you think Rumplestiltskin is “chickening out” on proposing to Belle and 2) Why do you think the Black Fairy wants human allies?
> 
> Thank you again for reading, and stick around for Chapter 38: “Full Circle”, where Regina and Robin meet with Will Scarlet (and Anastasia), the fae crash David’s court, and Rumplestiltskin picks a very inappropriate moment to continue Emma’s magic lessons.


	39. Full Circle

**_Chapter Thirty-Eight—“Full Circle”_ **

Regina hated waiting, and being told—barely politely!—to cool her heels in _someone_ else’s antechamber was a bit much.  She’d spent years, even when she was just the mayor of Storybrooke, having people wait on her, not the other way around, and having to adjust to anything else was difficult.  Particularly when the people in question kept them waiting for almost an hour, doing whatever it was they did in Wonderland.  Finally, an odd looking man with a face that was painted half red and half white showed up, opened the doors, and announced them:

“Robin of Locksley and…friend.” The silly little man said looked confused, but Regina followed Robin into the throne room without correcting him.  She’d promised to try to do this Robin’s way, after all, and that meant putting the Evil Queen persona down, at least for a little while.

“Hello, Will,” Robin opened with the cheeky grin that Regina knew all too well.  “Or should I say ‘Your Majesty’?”

The slender man on the right handed throne laughed.  “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see Robin Hood in Wonderland with—”

“Queen Regina?” the woman to his right squeaked, rather un-graciously, Regina thought.  But even the former outlaw turned White King went a little bit green around the edges upon seeing her, and well, that did warm her heart a little. 

“Dowager Queen these days,” she replied airily, waving a hand.  “No need to get up.”

They both stared at her, but it was Robin’s exasperated look that mattered, so Regina tried a reassuring smile on for size.  Of course, she wasn’t a particularly reassuring presence for anyone who had grown up in the Enchanted Forest, and Regina knew that, but she supposed that she should at least try.  _Thank goodness that Robin knows Will Scarlet,_ she thought behind her attempt at diplomacy, _because I doubt he’d listen to me!_ Scarlet had been brought to Storybrooke by her curse, Regina knew, and Anastasia seemed to originally have been from the Enchanted Forest.  Neither of them was going to think she was up to anything good.  It was practically reflex, after all.  They were hardwired to think of her as a villain.

_Villains don’t get happy endings._   But that wasn’t true, was it?  They were working at it, both of them were, and Regina was slowly coming to understand that although she needed to _fight_ for her happy ending, it was possible.  That thought, more than anything else, gave her the strength to raise her chin and forge onwards, ignoring what she knew people thought of her so that she could do the right thing.

“I know you weren’t really expecting us,” Robin said, filling the uncomfortable silence with a crooked smile.  “But we need your help.”

“You need _our_ help?” Anastasia echoed doubtfully.  “What would you need our help for?”

“We’re looking for someone, actually.  Someone that we have good reason to believe is here in Wonderland.”  Robin shrugged.  “Or at least we think he is.”

“There aren’t a lot of people from the Enchanted Forest here,” Will pointed out.  “Present company, uh, notwithstanding.”

The two monarchs exchanged a glance, sending an odd chill up Regina’s spine.  Those two were True Love, she suddenly realized.  Who would have thought that of an outlaw and Cinderella’s (slightly less) evil stepsister?  But the magic swirling around them—not Anastasia’s magic; that was far less significant—didn’t lie.  It was much like the power that always drifted around herself and Robin, and it made Regina feel a little bit better disposed towards the White King and Queen.

“We’re looking for a sorcerer who apparently made a name for himself here,” Regina answered, grinning wickedly.  “Jafar.”

“We hear he’s a genie these days,” Robin added helpfully.

Regina shrugged and continued before the other two could recover from their shock.  Apparently Robin didn’t care to socialize with the pair, so she went straight to the point.  “I tried a tracking spell, but I think that I need something of his to make it work.  Do you have anything?”

“I don’t think locator spells work on genies,” Will said after a moment, still a bit wide-eyed.

“How would you know anything about genies?” Robin asked curiously.

The White King shrugged, exchanging a loaded glance with his wife. “I, uh, might have been one for a while.”

“You might have what?” Regina found herself echoing dubiously.  Of course, she’d met—and manipulated—former genies before, but no one knew better than Regina that freedom for a genie came at a high price.  _Just look at Sidney.  He trapped himself in a mirror with a careless wish, and if anyone should have known better, he should have!_   Come to think of it, Regina had no idea where Sidney had gone off to after their return from Storybrooke.  Hopefully, he’d landed as a human and gone off to do something, well…elsewhere.  She didn’t need a lovesick puppy trailing her around, particularly if he wasn’t stuck in a mirror that she could cover up and get away from.

“You _have_ been busy,” Robin put in with a grin, which the outlaw-turned-king returned crookedly.

“You have no idea, mate.”

“You’re one to talk,” Anastasia put in.  “What’s the Enchanted Forest’s most legendary outlaw doing in Wonderland with the Evil Queen?”  Her voice took on a slight edge.  “And _why_ do you want Jafar?”

Without any conscious decision to let them do so, Regina found her eyes meeting Robin’s.  Looking at him let her throttle down the immediate desire to snap at these two so-called monarchs (a thief and a minor noblewoman, _ha!_ ) and refuse to explain herself to them.  Robin had been right; they needed to try this his way.  Besides, who was she to cast stones?  _I never expected redemption to be this damn hard!_ Being on the side of the heroes didn’t mean Regina was required to be nice to everyone she met, but in this case, perhaps a little diplomacy was in order. 

“Basically, we’re trying to stop him from doing anything…regrettable,” Robin explained, clearly noticing that Regina was struggling to behave herself.  “Things are getting interesting back home, and there are some people who would probably love to use him against everyone else.  We’re here to get him, and his lamp, before they can.”

“I believe that of you,” Will replied immediately.  “But her?” He glanced at Regina.  “No offense, but I lived in the Enchanted Forest.  And Storybrooke.  I don’t think giving you a genie to play with is a good idea.”

Regina couldn’t help laughing.  “I don’t need a genie to get what I want.”

Of course, _that_ didn’t seem to reassure either of them, so Robin picked up hastily.  “You’ve missed out on a lot in the last year, Will. We’ve been at war ever since everyone came back from the Land Without Magic.  Queen Regina’s been a big help.”

“Against who?” Anastasia asked as if she couldn’t believe her ears, and Regina fought to keep from rolling her eyes.

“It started against the Wicked Witch of the West, but these days, we’re trying to stop—or contain, anyway—the Black Fairy,” her lover replied, glancing her way again.  The hint of worry in Robin’s eyes made her scowl, even though it did bring a warm rush of love with it.  She was _fine_ , thank you very much, although it was kind of nice to have someone who worried about that from time to time.

“The Black Fairy’s just a legend,” Will objected.

“Look, we don’t have time to argue with you,” she cut in.  “Either help us or don’t.  But if you’re not going to, just say so, and we’ll be on our way.  We’ve got a war to get back to.”

_And the two most powerful fairies in the world still want my son’s heart,_ Regina didn’t say, though the knowledge certainly weighed on her mind.  Emma had promised to keep Henry safe, and Regina knew that Rumplestiltskin would keep an eye on him, too, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t constantly worry about Henry.  She’d lost him once, for over a year, as the ultimate price for her own vengeance, and Regina wasn’t about to let that happen again.  If she had to, she’d wish the damn genie into protecting Henry for eternity, and have no regrets.

Her bluntness made both of Wonderland’s monarchs blink and exchange a look.  Finally, Will said: “I think we can help you, but Jafar…isn’t here.  Though I do think I might know where he is.”

He looked so uneasy that Regina had to snort.

“Wherever it is, it can’t be any worse than some places I’ve been.”

Robin stared at her.  “Why did you have to go and say that, love? You _know_ how this works.  Now things are only going to get uglier.”

Regina just shrugged.

 

****************

 

Bae had never much liked Prince Thomas—really, it was a mutual dislike that they both embraced—but after David told him what the idiot had said about Henry, he was ready to take the pretty princeling’s face off.  Of course, Bae had long since had the same realization about his son, but he’d hoped that no one else would really think about it.  Trying to explain why it mattered to Emma hadn’t been fun at all; she was plenty smart enough to wrap her mind around the concept of illegitimate birth, but Emma was a product of the world they’d both grown up in. Like Bae, it really riled her up to think that someone might take their prejudices out on _Henry._   It wasn’t Henry’s fault that they’d been young and dumb, and he didn’t deserve to pay the price for that.  Thankfully, David agreed, because Bae could only imagine what a blowup would occur between Emma and her father if David _had_ been inclined to cut his losses like King Francis seemed to think he should.

There were times that Bae really missed the Land Without Magic.  At least there most folks hadn’t been so damn class conscious, and there Thomas would have just been a yuppie mechanic struggling to make ends meet because you couldn’t live in your father’s castle forever in the real world.   Here, however, Thomas got to play at being important, running around and doing his father’s errands because he was a king-in-waiting.  It actually made Bae miss Ella, who he didn’t know well, but at least seemed to be something of a steadying influence on her husband.  _She_ seemed to have learned a thing or two over the years, and probably would have been smart enough to stop Thomas from prattling on about Henry being a bastard.

“If he says that anywhere _near_ Henry, I swear to God that I’ll tell Regina and let her eat him for lunch,” he murmured to David.

David snorted.  “Not your father?”

“Pop’s a bit slower to take vengeance.  He likes to make people squirm,” Bae shrugged. “Regina’s scarier in this context, I think.”

“You’re forgetting that it was your father who made a deal for Thomas’ unborn daughter,” Henry’s other grandfather pointed out with an amused smile.  It was amazing how they could joke about things like that these days.  “They’re still plenty scared of him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, then,” he promised, keeping his tone light but not really managing to mask how angry he was.  Yeah, he and Emma had screwed up, but where did Thomas get off saying that Henry was unworthy because of that?

“Hey.”  Abruptly, David put a hand on his shoulder, and Bae twisted to stare at the king.  “We’ll make this right.  Legitimizing Henry won’t be hard at all.  Snow and I will get on it as soon as she’s back.”

The lump in Bae’s throat eased a little; Emma’s parents really _were_ good people, and the two of them were damn lucky that neither monarch blamed them for what had happened.  Obviously, if such a thing had happened in Thomas’ family, the child in question wouldn’t have been nearly so accepted.  “People will still look down at him.”

“Less so if the two of you get married.”

“Huh?” Shock tore the word out of him, and all Bae could do was stare at his friend.  Had David really just said…?

“You _did_ ask permission to court her and all.  That is usually what comes next, _Sir_ Baelfire.”  If David hadn’t been smiling, Bae might have just walked away, but he was.  Still, it took him a long time to find words, because it was one thing to date (or court, or whatever they were doing) Emma.  Marriage, expected though it was in the Enchanted Forest, was something else entirely.

Even if they _had_ meant to marry after getting to Tallahassee, that had been a lifetime ago.

“I, uh…I mean, _damn,_ David.  It’s Emma.  She’s going to make it difficult,” he finally managed to respond after flailing for words for several long moments.  Bae knew he looked like he’d swallowed a fish, but he so hadn’t expected to have this conversation today.   _“Unless you want me dabbling in your love life…”_ his father had said.  Damn it all if things didn’t have a habit to coming around in circles.

“I know,” David replied with a smile.  “And I’m not trying to push the two of you into anything—though I will warn you that Snow thinks it’s a _great_ idea, so you should watch out for that.  We’ll take care of legitimizing Henry.  Just…think about it.  I know you make Emma happy, and that’s what matters to us.  Not titles or crowns.  Besides”—and now he grinned—“like you said, it’s Emma.  She’s going to stay with who she wants, not who we tell her to.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Bae muttered, remembering the girl who had tried to steal the car he’d already stolen.  The two exchanged knowing smiles before another ambassador arrived to claim David’s attention, and Bae wandered off, casting a glance over to where his son was chatting with Granny.  Somehow, the tyrannical old woman had wound up taking over Graham’s nursery, but today she had emerged from her little realm to socialize with the rest of the court.  But at least she was someone who Bae could trust with Henry.  Granny wouldn’t let yuppie princes like Thomas say anything horrible in Henry’s hearing.  Hell, she probably wouldn’t let Thomas near Henry just on principle—she’d never much use for royalty that wasn’t Snow or David, after all.

Threading his way through the crowd, Bae headed for the far wall, looking for a spot to lean on and people watch while he avoided Thomas.  He didn’t _want_ to start a fight, and Bae was smart enough to know that if he started talking to the prince in question, he wouldn’t be able to be nice.  But he was a guest at David’s court, and Bae had learned enough about polite society to know that meant he needed to behave himself.

Movement caught his eye as three women strode through the doors, causing heads to turn before people turned back to their original conversations.  All three were dressed like noblewomen, with flawless features and great natural beauty.  Each seemed to have chosen a specific color as her theme for the evening: the redhead wore blue, the blonde gold, and the very tall brunette wore green.  But all three extravagant dresses (Bae had been at court long enough to recognize how abnormal their garb was, particularly when this gathering was far from a ball) shared a common thread of silver…silver that wasn’t entirely secular.  A chill ran down Bae’s spine.

Glancing David’s way—he was still busy with that ambassador—Be started heading towards the three women who he was now sure were fae.  They were toobeautiful, tooperfect.  He hadn’t really seen many fae, aside from one or two who wandered into the middle of one battle or another…and that one.  The brunette.  He _had_ seen her before.  That was the fae who had brought King Stefan’s castle crashing down around them so many months earlier!

And now she seemed to have recognized him, too, because the fae was headed his way with a knowing smirk on her face.  So, Bae studied her openly, meeting her gaze frankly when others looked away.  She certainly was beautiful in an ethereal kind of way; something in the smooth way she floated over the ground marked her as clearly not-human, but the affect was alluring instead of off-putting.  Her hair was slightly curly, falling to her waist and flowing behind her like the wispy silver cloth lining her gown.  There wasn’t a breeze in the throne room, but her magic seemed to create one, and as Bae watched, the fae walked right up to him.

She looked different when she wasn’t pinned to the ground courtesy of his father’s magic, not so furious and far more self-satisfied.

“I remember you,” she said immediately, stepping close to him and reaching a hand out to touch his cheek.  Bae dodged, but her smile only grew.  “Though I had not recalled you being so handsome.”

The soft-spoken words made desire stir in him, and Bae felt the telltale tingle of magic working through his bones.  But knowing it was there meant he could work with it, and he smiled back as casually as he could, refusing to let her magic wrap around him and make him into a fool.  “Then I think you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Titania,” she introduced herself in a purr, and now her hand _did_ somehow make it to his cheek, long and cool fingers stroking lightly.  His heart was beating faster, despite himself.

“Baelfire,” he answered without meaning to.

_You fool!  Names have power_ , Bae cursed himself inwardly, but by now it was too late to take it back.

“A strong name,” Titania replied, silvery gray eyes fastened on his.  “A beautiful name.”

_Emma,_ Bae told himself desperately.  _Think of Emma._   Picturing Emma’s face _did_ help pull him back from the sudden thickness in his throat, the unexpected pulse of desire rolling through him.  He didn’t want this, didn’t want her, and he needed to stay focused.  Bae doubted that three fae had shown up just to play with him, particularly what given the other information David had relayed to him.  Was this related to what Thomas’ father was up to?  But this woman wasn’t the Black Fairy.  Bae remembered _her_ from the christening, remembered how every man in the room had wanted her, remembered the toxically enticing magic that wafted out and filled the room.  Titania, this fae, was almost as bad, though, particularly up close and personal.

“Come with me, Baelfire, and experience pleasure like you have only dreamed of,” she said persuasively, and part of him screamed to agree.

His heart sounded like a rock band was playing in his ears.

_Emma,_ he told himself again.  _Think of Emma._   But his mouth started to open to agree, and the words _would_ have come out, no matter what he really wanted, had the blonde-haired fae not stepped up to speak quietly to Titania.

“The boy is here,” she whispered.  “The Truest Believer.”

The words dumped a bucket of freezing cold water over Bae’s head, and his mind snapped back into itself, the formerly unfocused room suddenly snapping back into full clarity.  _Henry._ “Stay away from him,” he snarled.

Titania turned back to look at him.  “Protective, are we?” A playful smile touched her pale lips.  “Here we come for the princess who took the Janus Stone, and instead we find the Truest Believer.  Where do you fit into this dynamic, Baelfire?”

She didn’t know, Bae suddenly realized, clamping his mouth shut with a smirk of his own.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

_She has no idea._   The sudden tightness in his chest was not fear—it was hard-edged fury and a need to protect his family no matter what the cost.  Because Emma and Henry _were_ his family, just like his dad and Belle were.  He didn’t need an official relationship with Emma to consider her family, and Bae had never been hesitant to fight for those he loved.  In that, he had always been his father’s son.

But there were ways in which he _wasn’t_ his father’s son, and as Titania’s hand touched his cheek again, Bae regretted—for the first time in his life—never learning a bit of magic.  He could feel the spell worming into his mind, into his soul, tearing out information and memories and laying him bare for Titania to inspect.  He tried to move, tried to yank away from her, but magic held him so still that he couldn’t even cry out for help.  Her power swirled around him, deep and dark, and Bae could feel it as Titania found the answer she was looking for.  Her silvery eyes went wide, just for a moment, and then the too-perfect face split into a victorious smile.

“He is your son,” Titania whispered, and then laughed softly.  “Oh, this is ideal.  I will bring you both, then—the boy for My Lady and you for my enjoyment.  Perfect.”

Heart still thundering in his ears, Bae forced himself to meet her eyes.  “I’m no one’s toy.”

 

****************

 

A few minutes later, Emma felt the surge of magic in her very bones.  At first, she thought Rumplestiltskin was responsible—he had been throwing various bits of magic up for her to deconstruct for what felt like hours—but the flavor was all wrong.  She’d never thought of magic having a specific taste before, but when Rumplestiltskin abruptly sat up and the magic he’d had her weaving at vanished, Emma knew something was wrong.  There was something familiar about this…

“What was that?” she asked.

“Fae magic.  And close.”  He was on his feet before he’d finished speaking, beckoning her along.  “Come.”

Suddenly, his magic swept them both up and brought them to her parents’ throne room.  Plenty of recent practice teleporting meant Emma landed on her feet, even though she was surprised by the sudden _yank_ of magic.  They landed right on the edge of a crowd of well-dressed and newly terrified people, most of which were rapidly backing away from the center of the room.  _As if leaning on the wall is going to save them_ , Emma almost snorted aloud.  She’d learned enough about magic to know that putting a little distance between yourself and it wouldn’t do you much good if the nasty stuff started flying around.   However, her attention was quickly stolen by the three fae near the middle of the room, two of which were facing her father down—who had Excalibur in hand and Henry behind him—and the third who was standing so close to Neal that she might have been kissing him.

Neal, for his part, looked both angry and completely befuddled, bamboozled by the layers of magic that Emma could feel swirling around him.  Despite the subject of the lesson she’d just been taught, Emma couldn’t consciously identify the different spells sweeping through her lover, but instinct and practise told her what type of magic they were.  Fury surged up, and she strode forward without meaning to, power leaping to her fingertips and not even thinking about unraveling anything.  She only thought about Neal.

“Get away from him, you bitch,” she snarled, slamming magic into the too beautiful fae.  An entirely comical look of surprise crossed the other woman’s face as she stumbled backwards, but it was quickly replaced by a smile.

“Oh, and the pieces fall into place!” she laughed.  “The Savior is the mother of the Truest Believer.  How fitting.”  The brunette glanced at Neal.  “What a happy family you make.”

“Yeah,” Emma replied, not bothering to deny it.  Magic came from passionate feelings, and man was she feeling that right now.  “And it’s a family you’re going to stay away from, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Mind the emotions,” a quiet voice reminded her from her left, and only then did Emma remember that Rumplestiltskin had appeared with her.  He stood a dozen or so feet away from her now, appearing totally at ease and _not_ crackling power the way she knew she was, but Emma could still feel it simmering under the surface.  “Conscious magic, Emma.”

She sucked in a deep breath and watched the fae wheel to face Neal’s father.  “Reverting to your old ways, Merlin? Playing the teacher behind the scenes?”

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “I am what I am.  Titania, isn’t it?”

“As you well know.”  Her smile met his, and Emma watched the silent byplay between the fae woman and the former Dark One.  _Now_ she could feel the power crackling, and to make things worse, the other two fae stepped up to stand slightly behind Titania, magic swirling around them, too.  Meanwhile, Neal slowly backed out of the line of fire, briefly meeting Emma’s eyes and then glancing towards Henry.

That silent message came across loud and clear.  Going after Neal had just been a distraction, no matter how hot and heavy Titania had been pouring it on.  Henry was their goal.  The bastards still wanted the Heart of the Truest Believer, and Neal was obviously drifting in the direction of David and Henry, his hand on his own sword hilt.  But there wasn’t much he could do here—this was a fight between magic users and, heaven help her, Emma had become one of those.  She might not quite be in the sorceress category yet…but she was getting close.  _Far closer than I would have wanted to be a couple of months ago_ , she thought honestly _.  Now, hell, I’m not so sure what I want, but I know what I have to be._

Emma would be whatever the world demanded of her, so long as it kept Henry safe.

Rumplestiltskin met her eyes, and quirked a rather naughty smile.  “Your lead.  I’m just here to teach.”

“You’re _what_?” she snapped.

“Enough of this,” Titania interjected, her cheerful expression melting into something vicious.  “We will take you both.  And the boy.  Surrender now, or face the consequences.”

“Really?” Emma retorted before she could stop herself.  “Is that the best threat you can come up with?”

_Real diplomatic, Emma. You make a great princess, don’t you?_ But it was hard to be politic when she just wanted to start smashing things.  And fae.  And of course, Rumplestiltskin was just standing there, watching the fae and working subtle magic under the surface—and had been for a while, Emma realized abruptly.  Maybe he wasn’t being quite as useless as Emma had thought.  Then again, he _was_ Henry’s grandfather, too, and Neal’s dad.  If nothing else, she could trust him to want them to be safe.  Knowing him, he didn’t give a damn about anyone else in the room, but he’d protect his family.

Briefly, Emma wondered if that layer of protection extended to her, too, or if he just intended to throw her off the deep end and see what she learned.  _He_ did _teach Regina.  Don’t forget that._   And Regina certainly would have been happy to make Emma face off against the fae until she learned something from the experience.  The Evil Queen _had_ tossed her off a cliff, after all, just to see what would happen.  And she hadn’t apologized, either.  Not even once.

“It isn’t a threat, Savior.  It’s a promise.”  The acidic bite in the fae’s voice triggered a memory, and Emma suddenly realized that this was the same fae she’d faced off against over the Janus Stone, the one who had survived the experience and run away when Belle grabbed the stone. 

“I’ve heard that before.  Didn’t you want to use me as a battery last time?  I seem to remember that plan working out just great for you.”

Titania didn’t answer; instead, a giant wave of magic—undisciplined, raw, and sharp-edged—rushed out at Emma and Rumplestiltskin.  It was huge and deadly, enough to make a part of Emma want to run away screaming, and although she’d just spent several hours talking about deconstructing magic, Emma reached instinctively for emotion-based magic.  Her counter fed off her fear, and the magic slammed to a stop four feet in front of her.  Emma, however, skidded back several feet from the force of the blow, her hands stinging.

A second surge of magic rolled over Emma immediately after the first, this one coming from the other two fae.  Thinking hard of Henry—and Neal, and even her father—Emma channeled power into her hands once more, and watched white light rear up to match the purple wave homing in on her.  The two met in a shower of sparks, making people yelp and cower back from the display.  Henry said something she couldn’t catch, only to be pulled back by Neal, who at least was still using his head.  Meanwhile, David shouted at everyone else to get back, but the doors to the throne room slammed shut with a wave of Titania’s hand, trapping everyone inside.  Still, at least the useless courtiers listened, and were now pressing as far back as they could get, leaving plenty of room for this fight.

“A little help here?” she snapped at Rumplestiltskin, feeling breathless already.  _Damn_.  The price for that bit of magic was undoubtedly going to be a huge migraine.

The sorcerer grinned, and then flicked a hand at the third attack, one which came from Titania and both of the other two.  Every magical sense Emma had was already tingling, which was probably why she felt the minuscule amount of power in the gesture—but could _still_ see how the slender thread of magic slipped inside the heart of the fae’s spell, pulling apart the very foundations of the magic.  Wide-eyed, Emma watched the spell collapse like a harmless house of cards, crumbling to nothing save fairy dust and disconnected bits of power.  Rumplestiltskin, of course, looked smugly pleased with himself.

“Finessetrumps raw power nearly every time, dear.  _Think_ , Emma.  Use that brain of yours, and you won’t need me.”

“Are you _seriously_ going to try to turn this into a teaching moment?” Emma demanded incredulously.

“Why shouldn’t I?” the sorcerer replied easily.  “You already know how to use your emotions to strengthen your magic.  Do the rest.”

Emma glared, but there wasn’t time to do more.  The fae attacked again, and this time she remembered to _look_ at the magic coming her way instead of reacting with what had become her first instinct, and sure enough, there was a thread that she could pull to dismantle it.  There wasn’t time to doubt herself—or time to screw up—so she yanked on that thread with all of the concentration she possessed.  Of course, she might have done so a bit too enthusiastically, because the fae’s spell came crashing down around them, fairy dust filling the air around them.  Her vision went multi-colored for a moment, and Emma sneezed.

“Better,” Rumplestiltskin said oh-so-helpfully.  “Though do try to use…kid gloves next time.  Gentler is better.”

“ _You’re_ talking about being gentle?  Didn’t I arrest you for beating your girlfriend’s father half to death with your cane?” Emma snarled.

“A lapse of judgment,” he replied with a shrug, flicking a hand and sending two of the fae flying.  Titania managed to stay on her feet, but only barely, and she bared her teeth at the pair, eyes flashing darkly.  Her hands came up, darkness sparking between them, and Emma felt the depth of the spell she was building.

_Someone needs to tell_ her _about using finesse over raw power_ , she thought mutinously.  But she glared at Rumplestiltskin instead of saying anything to the bitchy fae.  “Isn’t that what you said about setting that wraith loose?”

“We all have our moments,” was the off-hand reply, said in a slightly sing-songy voice that put Emma’s teeth on edge.

But damn it if that crooked smile he was wearing didn’t remind her of Neal, who had already dragged their son halfway across the room, despite Henry’s vocal objections.  David was covering their retreat, making sure that Henry was well-shielded by plenty of other people, but Emma still knew that all the people in the throne room couldn’t protect Henry from these fae if she and Rumplestiltskin failed.  Still, she thought she knew enough about her companion to know that he didn’t much enjoy even the idea of failure, which meant that Emma could just roll her eyes at him and retort:

“Yeah, and you’ve got more than others.”

She got the words out just before the next attack came sailing in from Titania, and then suddenly it was a fast and furious battle, full of magic flying at her that Emma had to either block or dismantle.  Rumplestiltskin seemed content to pick apart anything she missed, sometimes offering a critique of her style or cheerfully acidic comments that seemed to make the fae want to strangle him, too.  Crazy though Gold had always been able to drive Emma, she _was_ capable of appreciating the fact that he seemed able to do the same to their common enemy.

Five minutes after she shot that comment back at Rumplestiltskin—the longest five minutes in Emma’s entire life, despite having rather stiff competition for that distinction—Emma had dismantled more than two dozen spells and stopped another ten or so using raw power and her desire to protect her family.  Meanwhile, she threw as many attacks as she could, finally abandoning herself to Rumplestiltskin’s coaching.  She griped at him more than once that he wasn’t exactly pulling his weight—but even when the words came out of Emma’s mouth, she got the sense that he was _still_ working on something behind the scenes.  But the fae didn’t seem to notice, so Emma kept her mouth shut on that front.  The fact that she was in the midst of a _magical fight_ was weird enough.  She didn’t even want to contemplate how bizarre it was to trust Rumplestiltskin to have her back.

Until Titania spun around and a complex spell suddenly raced towards Henry, too fast for Emma to keep up with, particularly since she was in the midst of hammering one of the other two fae into the ground.  She was fed up with this mess, sick of listening to the three fae laugh at her while she learned and fought at the same time. 

“Stop her!” was all Emma had time to shout, and power ripped out of Rumplestiltskin—a fascinating cross between a carefully crafted spell and the type of protective magic that Emma excelled at.  The sheer ferocity of the emotion he used shocked Emma to her core, and it sent Titania sprawling. 

But there was another kind of magic building, and it wasn’t just the shields that Rumplestiltskin had snuck up around Neal, Henry, and David.  Titania—and perhaps the other two fae—had been in the process of doing something, something terrifying and _aimed at Henry._

“Take the other two, Emma.  However you need to.  Just do it fast,” he snapped, all amusement gone.

Titania was on her feet, now, and instead of facing off with Rumplestiltskin, who was already stepping towards her, she fired a giant ball of blackness towards Emma, and the one _hit._   Emma had never been struck by dark magic before, and it took her breath away, trapping the scream that wanted to rise in her chest and sending wild convulsions ripping through her.  Collapsing to her knees as the world spun wildly, Emma vaguely heard Neal shouting her name and Henry calling for her, too, but the darkness was too strong, and the floor rushed up to meet her face before Emma could form coherent thought.  Desperately, she tried to cling to the love she felt for Henry and Neal, to let her need to protect them fuel her magic, but the darkness had its claws too deeply into her, and Emma went down hard.

Vaguely, she felt one of the other two fae fling magic at her, and Emma _knew_ that was going to kill her—but then the spell stopped cold, and a different spell suddenly ripped through her.  Her vision cleared painfully fast, and Emma realized that Rumplestiltskin was on one knee at her side. 

“Rise and shine, Princess,” he said tightly, his left hand extended and holding up a shield between the pair of them and the fae.  The same black sparks that had hit Emma snapped and popped as they impacted against the shield, and his face was tight with concentration.  Rumplestiltskin’s right hand lifted from her forehead, glowing faintly. 

Coherency crept back in, allowing Emma to realize that Rumplestiltskin was now shielding the pair of them in addition to Henry, Neal, and David.  There was an enormous amount of power swirling around in the air, enough that it made her head spin, and awareness slammed back into Emma with a bang.  Groaning, she dragged herself up to her knees, watching a lightshow play over the shield Rumplestiltskin had thrown up.  She could see the threads weaving his defenses together as spells rebounded against them, could see them shifting and adjusting as the assault continued.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the most powerful guy around?  Why can’t you take these guys out on your own?” she grumbled, digging deep into her own reserves.

“I could if I wasn’t worried about the spells that one cast before we got here,” he replied in an undertone, jerking his head towards Titania as they both came to their feet.  “If wekill any one of them without dismantling it first, Henry will be transported out of here.  Why else do you think I’m playing the defensive game?”

“I thought you were just trying to screw with me.  Or teach me something.”

“Well, I _was_ trying to teach you, until you went and fell on your face,” Rumplestiltskin said with a dry laugh, and despite herself, Emma snickered.

“I’ll try harder next time,” she retorted.

“I’d prefer this time, if it’s all the same to you.”  They rose together, and Emma could feel his magic continuing to reach out, to counter the many spells Titania had worked while she was alone in the throne room and trying to seduce Neal.

_Bitch.  I’ll teach you to try to steal my man_ , Emma thought fiercely, and power leapt to her hands as she exchanged another look with Neal’s father.  A sudden coolness stole through her, and Emma found herself looking at Rumplestiltskin in a different light.  She’d never understood him because they’d never had anything in common, but now they did, and she could recognize the same fierce desire to protect those he loved.  Those _she_ loved.

“Sure,” she replied as casually as she could, shaking her head to clear it.  Emma wished the infernally annoying man would have told her that she was serving as a distraction as he did the dirty work—but maybe he had.  Emma was the direct sort herself, but she knew Rumplestiltskin well enough to know that he was the king of subtlety.  Still, she couldn’t help but scowl at him one more time. “There are times I still want to punch you in the face, you know.”

She was mostly joking, or at least Emma was pretty sure she was.  Rumplestiltskin laughed, anyway, so at least he didn’t feel immediately threatened.  _Then again, how often_ does _he feel threatened?_   That thought only made her actually _want_ to punch him, him, though, so Emma pushed it aside.  When he didn’t answer, Emma continued:

“What’s the plan?”

Even as she spoke, Emma felt the sudden _crack_ in the fae magic, and she heard both Henry and Neal cry out in surprise.  She almost snapped something at Rumplestiltskin, until she realized that he’d finally yanked out the hooks that Titania had set into Neal and Henry both, and although the experience probably hadn’t been pleasant, it was a hell of a lot better than the fae being able to drag those two off when they left.  Abruptly, Emma realized that Rumplestiltskin had _also_ been stopping the three fae from being able to teleport away.  How much power _had_ he been laying out when she was busy boxing with the enemy?

“Take the lesser fae.  I’ll deal with Titania,” Rumplestiltskin replied tersely, stepping forward again. 

“Got it.”  Emma moved right as he went left, and she dug deep into her own reserves. 

Emma had never found the bottom of her own power, but she was looking at it now, and yet she wasn’t the type to accept limitations, so she just ignored how her instincts told her that she should stop and dug deeper.  While Titania wheeled on Rumplestiltskin and started flinging more of that vicious dark magic at him, Emma reached out with invisible hands to smash the other two into one another.  Both yelped in surprise, probably not used to an actual _physical_ assault, and Emma grinned.  Maybe she didn’t have to do magic bluntly like Regina, or even in Rumplestiltskin’s tricky and twisted way.  She could become a sorceress and still be Emma Swan, could smash things together sometimes and think her way out of situations at other times.  She didn’t have to be exactly like either of her teachers.  Magic or no, she could be herself.

Somehow, that simple thought made everything jump into utter clarity.  She might be becoming a sorceress, but Emma was still the same girl that had yearned for a home despite being bounced from foster home to foster home, found love in a stolen car, given up a son who searched her out, and then stubbornly refused to believe until the very last moment when she had to break a curse.  She was a skeptic, a believer, an orphan, and the child of parents who had given up everything to save her.  Emma’d always been a contradiction, but in that moment she was more at peace with her own idiosyncrasies than ever before.

And maybe that was the key to making her magic work.  Or maybe it was just the key believing in herself.  Either way, when power came to her hands, Emma could shape it better than ever before.  She could _understand_ it, and when the two fae disentangled themselves from one another, Emma was ready, shaping a spell into something like a fast-moving magical bullet.  It struck the redhead right in the face, and although Emma was pretty sure that _good_ sorceresses (or witches, or whatever people wanted to call her) weren’t supposed to kill unless they had to, she wasn’t about to let the fae who’d threatened Neal and their son live.  There was only one way to stop these three, and well, maybe the second one would grow a brain stem and decide to surrender once her compatriot was dead.

The blonde whirled even as Titania snarled at Emma: “You’ll pay for that, Savior.  In blood and pain!”

“Not so likely, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin said, flashing out of existence and suddenly appearing behind Titania.  His hand went in through her back and then into her chest, making the fae stagger and gasp in pain.  Even as the blonde whirled to help, Rumplestiltskin’s right hand came free with Titania’s heart clutched in it—and Emma’s next spell knocked the blonde back.

Insight blazed through her mind, and Emma finally saw the tightly-woven together mesh of the blonde fae’s defenses…and the weaknesses in them.  Shaping another bullet of power, this one designed to stun but not kill, Emma flung it at the blonde, sending her crashing to the ground next to her dead companion, utterly paralyzed.  _Now, if I’d only known to do that to the dragon, I might not have felt so horrible afterwards!_  

“You want to question this one?” Emma asked Rumplestiltskin, walking over to stand next to the blonde fae she’d taken out. 

His eyes never moved from Titania’s; the two stood less than a foot apart, with the fae snarling impotently at Rumplestiltskin.  “No,” the former Dark One said with a sneer.  “No, we don’t need her at all, now, do we?”

“My Lady will know if you try to control me via my heart,” Titania hissed, but there was something off in her delivery.

“Oh, I know she will.  That’s why I have no intention of doing so.”  Rumplestiltskin’s smile was a dangerous thing, but for the first time, Emma’s thoughts were completely in line with his.  In fact, she was tempted to—

“You can’t just kill them,” David interjected, stepping forward, Excalibur still in hand.  “They’re prisoners now.”

If Emma had read Rumplestiltskin right, he was certainly more than willing to—was he waiting for her to stop him, or for her to back him up?  This could all be a test for anyone in the room: Titania, David, or even Emma herself, but Emma’s instincts said that Rumplestiltskin was running a gambit on the fae, not on his allies.  So, she decided to go with it, despite the unhappy expression on her father’s face.

“Why not?” Emma asked casually.  “It’s not like we can _keep_ them…unless they give us a reason to.”

“We’re not—I mean, _I’m_ not—” the blonde yelped from where she was on the floor.  “I’ll…”

Emma peered down at her.  “You’ll what?”

“If you even _think_ about betraying our Lady—” Titania wheeled on the other fae, snarling. 

“He’s Merlin!” the blonde squeaked. 

“You’re a coward,” Titania sneered, and Emma felt magic rising.  Titania was undoubtedly one of the more powerful fae alive, and Emma could _feel_ the spell she was working, despite Rumplestiltskin’s grip on her heart.  Regina had once mentioned that you could enchant your heart so that no one could control you with it, and Titania must have done that, because the darkness rising was clearly meant to kill the blonde.  “You—”

She never finished the sentence before collapsing to the floor in a heap, and Emma watched Rumplestiltskin open his left hand, dust trickling out of it and onto the floor.  David gaped in surprise, but Emma didn’t so much as flinch.  Instead, she crouched by the blonde’s side, mentally picking up the strand of magic that she had used to paralyze her opponent.

“So,” she asked slowly.  “Do you want to live, or not?”

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s an extra long chapter to make up for the wait before the last one! This one almost became two chapters (It’s almost 7,800 words long), but it worked better in one piece. So, my questions for you moving forward: 1) What do you think of Emma’s acceptance of her own magic and 2) Do you think the newfound understanding between her and Rumplestiltskin will last?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Next up is Chapter 39: “Lessons Learned”, where we explore the fallout from this battle; Snow, Belle, Ruby, and Grumpy head after the other prisoners Grumpy knows about; and Regina gets in a spat with Will Scarlet.


	40. Lessons Learned

**_Chapter Thirty-Nine—“Lessons Learned”_ **

 

Rumplestiltskin had to give Charming some credit.  After Titania dropped to the ground and the blonde fae frantically promised to answer any questions they had, the king immediately sent the terrified courtiers and ambassadors away, assuring everyone that everything would be all right.  He was dignified and reassuring, somehow able to act like there weren’t two dead fae lying on the floor of his throne room, one bleeding from a hole in the middle of her forehead and the other one decorated by a sprinkling of dust from her own heart.  Fortunately, most of the people had been involved in the war somehow, so the sight of watching two magic users kill a pair of fae—and capture a third—didn’t upset them overmuch, though Rumplestiltskin did notice more than a few wary glances thrown his way.

And he was about to make things worse, of course.  But there was no other option.

He waved a hand as the stragglers trickled out, ignoring the telltale signs of a headache and casting a quick spell.  The power flicked out of his fingers like invisible sparks, unnoticeable to everyone but him—and Emma, interestingly enough.  The little Savior was a novice no more; despite the rocky beginning, she’d handled herself like at least a semi-seasoned sorceress, figuring out how to fight as she went and actually coming out of the battle pretty well.  Despite his own customary cynicism, Rumplestiltskin was a little impressed.  Even now, Emma met his eyes calmly, showing very few signs of the screaming headache he knew she was suffering from.  Emma had indeed felt the spell, though she probably wasn’t certain what it did until seven people bounced off an invisible barrier and were unable to leave the throne room.

One of them, unfortunately, was Rumplestiltskin’s least favorite prince.  Thomas spun around to look at Charming—he’d never speak to Rumplestiltskin unless he had to—his youthful face shocked and tight.  “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Charming turned to look at Rumplestiltskin, because _this_ royal had no problems demanding answers of anyone, no matter how powerful they were.  “Did you do something?”  


“Of course I did.” His second spell was already racing out, already wrapping around the seven he’d chosen; or rather, the seven Titania had chosen, the ones who each carried within them a sliver of a spell that Rumplestiltskin couldn’t quite identify.  Together, those seven formed the baseline for _something_ dangerous, something that would allow the fae to spread the beginnings of…of what?  He wasn’t sure yet, and Rumplestiltskin couldn’t tell if that was a sign of his own tiredness or of the clever magic that Titania had weaved.  Still, his magic worked as designed, settling into the seven and isolating the spells Titania had put on them.

She’d been damn powerful, Titania had, and part of Rumplestiltskin was damn terrified of how easily he’d reached into her chest, forced his hand past her defenses, and just torn her heart out.  As the Dark One, he would _never_ have been able to do that; he would not have been powerful enough.  Every time he thought that he’d accepted this new and startling power of his, something happened that made him remember, _again_ , that all magic came at a price.  _And this is mine,_ Rumplestiltskin thought, sending the third spell out, the one that ripped into all seven people at the same time, making some gasp and others fall, tearing over them and removing the fae magic.  Colors flashed in front of Rumplestiltskin’s eyes as he did so, weariness pressing down on him, but he could still feel everything, could still see the complicated threads of magic that he was slowly pulling towards him.  The trackers, traps, and tricks on those seven failed, and Rumplestiltskin snatched up the fae magic before it could infect anyone else.

“Then what did you do?” Charming pressed, returning Rumplestiltskin to reality.

The ache behind his shoulders, the pressure in his head, was just his entirely too human body’s reaction, Rumplestiltskin knew.  But he could _fix_ that, with magic—and while once he would have counseled his students against doing such a thing, it was absurdly easy to do for himself.  _Original powers,_ he reminded himself, feeling strength race through his muscles at the mere thought of needing magical help.  As the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin had _been_ magic.  With his curse broken, he had thought that he simply had magic like any other human sorcerer, but that wasn’t the case.  He really wished that he could dredge Merlin and up ask him a few questions, but that was regrettably impossible.

He _was_ magic again.  Did that mean he was immortal again?  Merlin had lived for hundreds of years before the Black Fairy had forced the curse into him.  Would that hold true for Rumplestiltskin as well, and if so, what did that mean for his relationships with his family?  Being free of his curse _should_ have made him mortal, should have returned him to who he was before…but it hadn’t.  Or at least he was beginning to think it hadn’t. 

“Rumplestiltskin?” it was Emma who asked the question, surprisingly, cocking her head at him.  “What _was_ that magic the fae put on them?”

Well.  Wasn’t she a smart girl, after all? She’d noticed the subtle spell, maybe after he started deconstructing it, but Emma had noticed it all the same, and now she chose to clue the other into what he was doing.  Rumplestiltskin smiled slightly.  “A trap of sorts.  I’ve deconstructed it.”  He waved a hand at the seven spooked people.  “You can all leave.”

“What kind of trap?” Prince Thomas spoke up instead of departing with the other six.

“Well, I could have either let it mature and find out what it was, or I could stop it.  You’ll have to pardon me for choosing the later,” Rumplestiltskin retorted, sneering.

“And how do we know _you_ weren’t at fault?” Thomas pressed.

“Hey,” Baelfire interjected, stepping forward with Henry at his side, glaring at Thomas.  “Lay off, all right?”

Thomas whirled on Rumplestiltskin’s son.  “You—”

“That’s enough,” David cut in forcefully.  “We’re all on the same side here.”  Rumplestiltskin didn’t miss the significant look he threw Thomas’ way.  “Even you, Thomas.”

Something was going on there.  But was now the time to ask, or to be patient?  Henry piped up before Rumplestiltskin could decide, asking:

“Why were they here?” the lad spoke up curiously.  “They wanted me, didn’t they?  Or my heart.  Again.”

“I’m afraid they did, Henry,” Rumplestiltskin replied, his eyes meeting Emma’s.  Understanding flashed between the two of them, something which had certainly never happened before.  But they’d never fought together like this, either, and perhaps Rumplestiltskin had underestimated Emma’s resolve.  Oh, he’d always known that the Savior was a strong woman—she took after both her parents like that—but she was _also_ willing to do what needed to be done.  He had to give her points for that.

“But we’re not going to let that happen,” Emma picked up where he left off, her eyes hard and expression implacable.  “No matter how many fae show up.”

“I know,” Henry replied, and the smile he gave the two of them was radiant enough almost to take Rumplestiltskin’s breath away.  “Thanks, Mom.  And you, too, Grandpa.”

“There was more to it than that, though,” Bae spoke up after a moment, after all obviously forcing himself to stop glaring at Thomas.  Rumplestiltskin had never noticed the animosity between his son and Cinderella’s husband, but there was obviously something there.  “It almost felt like they were trying to whisk Henry and me away.”

“They were,” Emma answered grimly, and then glanced his way.  “Weren’t they?”

“That is indeed the case.”  Rumplestiltskin quirked a smile before he could think the better of it, glancing at Charming almost more than his son.  “Did you really think I’d need that long to deal with three fae?  Or help?”

That made Charming grimace.  “Did you have to kill them to stop that?”

“Have to? No,” he replied with a shrug.  “But you can’t spare all your enemies.  Sometimes a message needs to be—wait a minute,” he cut himself off, wheeling to face his son.  “You _felt_ that magic?”

Now it was Bae’s turn to shrug.  “Yeah.  Didn’t everyone?”

“No, not at all,” David answered, shooting Bae a look that was a lot less suspicious than Rumplestiltskin would have once expected it to be.  But his son really _had_ made himself a place with these people, hadn’t he?  Bae had been busy earning his spurs while Rumplestiltskin had still been a prisoner of the Black Fairy.  But David _was_ looking at Bae curiously, as was Henry…and even Emma.

“Oh.  Um, I guess it’s a by-product of being in Neverland so long?” Bae looked uncomfortable.

“No, that’s not it,” Rumplestiltskin spoke up, stepping towards his son—and so gratified to see that his boy, now a man, did not pull away from him.  Instead, Bae looked to him the way he had so long ago, back when a poor spinner had had all the answers that Baelfire could ever need.  Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath before continuing:  “But magic does tend to work by association as much as it travels through bloodlines.  You’ve been related to and exposed to enough magic that it seems to have finally found you.”

“Huh.  Who would have thought that?”

Emma broke the awkward silence by snickering naughtily.  “Guess I’m not the only one then, huh?”  Without warning, she stepped over to punch Bae playfully in the shoulder.  “Looks like someone else is going to be getting lessons, too.”

“What?  I—uh—I don’t know about that,” Bae stuttered, his wide eyes going back and forth from his girlfriend to his father and back to Emma again.

“He’s going to be worse than I am,” Emma replied, surprising Rumplestiltskin by turning her grin on him.  “And I can’t _wait_ to hear you complaining about him.”

His own laugh—followed quickly by his son’s—took Rumplestiltskin completely by surprise, particularly when David and Henry joined in.  An odd warmth rose inside of him, a feeling of belonging like he wasn’t used to feeling outside of being with Belle.   But even though Bae’s smile was very crooked, and slightly uncertain, his boy wasn’t fighting against this new realization, wasn’t pushing it away simply because it was magic.  Once, Bae had told him that everything bad in his life had started with magic, but now things did seem to be slowly changing on that front.  Now, Rumplestiltskin was able to reach out and put a hand on his son’s shoulder, confident that Bae wasn’t going to pull away from him, and knowing that they’d find a way to figure this out.

They always did, after all.

 

****************

 

Two days after they’d rescued Grumpy—two days sooner than any of them wanted him to be up, particularly the healer who had fixed the dwarf—Snow found herself trekking through the woods.  None of them had wanted to let Grumpy get out of bed, but he _was_ Grumpy, and once he got an idea in his head, there was no stopping him.  The best thing they could do was go along and try to help…and try to keep the pigheaded dwarf out of trouble. 

Not that Snow was surprised.  She’d known Grumpy for a long time now, and Snow knew that trying to talk him out of rescuing whatever other prisoners the fae had collected was next to impossible.  So, she’d opted not to argue with him and had instead made sure that there were plenty of people around to keep an eye on Grumpy.  Snow had even managed to convince Caer Dalben’s best healer to come along with them for this trip back into the forest, much though the healer was uncomfortable with that notion.  But a big enough bribe brought the healer along, particularly when Snow promised to have several of her soldiers protect her.

“Right here,” Grumpy said for the third time.  “I’m sure it’s right here.”

“Are you really sure?” Ruby asked for the second time, gesturing at the fae magic detector Tink had given them.  “This little bugger is showing nothing at all.”

The dwarf glared.  “I know what I’m talking about, sister.  Norco said that it was in the Grove of Six Trees, and Belle’s book says that all six should be spaced the exact same distance from one another, with green and yellow leaves.  Look up.”

Snow and Ruby both did; Belle’s head was still in a book.  How _did_ the bookworm always manage to find the right answer in a book?  Snow was half convinced that Belle had some sort of special book and studying magic, because there was no way she’d ever be so lucky as to know where to find every answer otherwise.  But sure enough, there were green and yellow leaves overhead, and Belle spoke up:

“There should be a magical doorway in the exact center.  It opens when you stand on the stump right there”—she pointed at a tree stump in the middle of the grove, so old and withered that it was almost perfectly flush with the ground—“but the doorway _can_ be held open if two people stand on it at once and one doesn’t step through.  So, someone just has to keep standing on it while everyone else goes in.”

“How _do_ you always find these things in books?” Ruby asked, echoing Snow’s thoughts.

Belle shrugged.  “I read a lot.”  The bookworm smiled, and as strange as it was, Snow knew that really _was_ the answer.  “So, who’s going to stand on the button while we all go in?”

“I’ll do it, Your Majesty,” Colonel Grimsby spoke up from Snow’s left, and she shot the old man a smile.  He’d been with her from childhood, having retired shortly before Regina usurped the throne, but Grimsby had come back to her service after Snow and David had married.  He was one of the best men she’d ever known, one of her father’s most trusted officers, and Snow had always trusted him.

“Thank you, Colonel,” she smiled at him, and was rewarded with a nod from the grizzled old man.  Reaching up to pull an arrow out of her quiver and notch it on her bow, she looked at Belle, Ruby, and Grumpy.  “You ready?”

“Bet your ass I am, sister,” Grumpy grated out, his face tight.  Snow couldn’t tell if it was with pain or with anger, but the dwarf shoved past the other two women and stepped onto the stump.  Grimsby stepped up with him, and suddenly the portal opened up, purple and green and sparkling with dark fairy dust.

The dwarf disappeared, dropping downwards with a surprised yelp.  Snow was next, throwing Ruby a hard glance when her old friend tried to get there first.  Ruby’s scowl was something of a smile, and definitely said she understood.  “After you,” Ruby quipped, sweeping her a playful curtsy. 

Stepping onto the stump was like stepping into a vacuum; the ground dropped out from under her and suddenly Snow found herself standing inside a dreamlike environment.  It _looked_ like she was still standing in the grove—the trees were the same, and she was even still standing on the stump until Snow stepped aside and made room for Ruby, then Belle, and then the dozen others who followed, all with weapons at the ready.  The air was thick with magic, so sharp that she could taste the dark fairy dust in the air.  It reminded her of trolls, Charming, and suddenly _knowing_ everything was going to change.  Yet she tore herself from the memories quickly, looking around curiously.  Everything inside the grove was oddly colored, felt surreal in ways Snow had never encountered before, and she’d spent a life surrounded by magic, whether she wanted to or not.  Slowly, however, what lay beyond the underground—if it was underground—grove slid into focus, and Snow noticed that the branches of the trees right outside the open area were woven together into…bars?

“There should be…oh, no,” Belle looked up from her book abruptly, spotting the same thing that had made Snow’s heart stop.

There were faces peering out at them from behind the intertwined trees, desperate, pale, and _human_ faces that were full of fear.

 

****************

 

The last place Regina had expected to visit in Wonderland was a _swamp_.  Was there nothing redeeming about the entire useless world?  Apparently there wasn’t, because now Regina found herself trekking through the Gummer Slough with Robin Hood and the king of this stupid place—or was he only the king of part of it?  Regina wasn’t up on Wonderland-ian politics, and really didn’t care to be.  However things shook out, most people here seemed to think that they owed allegiance to the White King and Queen, which at least meant that their trip to the Gummer Slough was easier than their trip to the palace had been.  Will Scarlet wasn’t royal in the slightest, but the man _did_ know how to get around Wonderland and half the realm seemed to owe him favors.  Regina would give him that much.

He even managed to bully the Gryphon into helping them, which led the trio deeper into the swamp than Regina had even wanted to contemplate going.  Supposedly there was a house buried out here, where an old man who was supposed to have a genie lived.  Why someone who had three wishes at their disposal would bother to live in such a dump, Regina didn’t know, but apparently the old fool did.  Whoever he was.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking,” Will said as they tromped through the swamp.  “If you’re really lookin’ for crazy magical types to help you against the Black Fairy, I can think of one that might fit the bill.”

“Really?” Robin asked curiously, shooting a glance at Regina.  Why did she have a bad feeling about this?  “Who?”

“It’s more of a what,” the White King replied with a shrug.  “Well, she is.”

“She’s _what_?” Regina finally snapped, fed up with whatever it was that was making Will squirm so much.

Her sharp tone made the young king jump.  “The Jabberwocky.”

“The what?” Robin wondered even as Regina snapped:

“No way.  Absolutely not.  I might be crazy enough to collect a genie for Rumplestiltskin, but there’s no way in _hell_ I’m going anywhere near the Jabberwocky.”

“What exactly is this Jabberwocky?”

Regina turned to look at her lover as Will answered:  “A terrible being that Jafar had control of.  She...can read your fears right out of yer head, can see the worst things that you can imagine and use them against you.  The Jabberwocky makes you _live_ every terror that you’ve ever felt from inside yourself.”  Will shuddered.

“That sounds horrible, but fear can be overcome,” Robin replied immediately, valiant soul that he was.  He looked thoughtful.  “A being that inspires fear can be defeated through courage, surely?”

“Not this one,” Regina picked up the explanation grimly.  “The Jabberwocky is more than just a creature.  The Jabberwocky _is_ magic, and capable of bringing even the bravest foes down.  I’ve only ever heard of her, but believe me, if you’ve got the Jabberwocky trapped, that’s where she needs to stay.  And even Rumplestiltskin would agree with that.”

Robin nodded, but Will piped up:  “Wait a minute, _Rumplestiltskin_ wants Jafar?  You didn’t mention that earlier.”

“It wasn’t relevant.”  She rolled her eyes, but of course Will Scarlet had grown up in the Enchanted Forest and had lived in Storybrooke for a time.  He’d probably grown up on stories of her _and_ Rumplestiltskin, few of which were good. 

Will stopped cold and shot Regina a hard look.  “Wait a minute.  What would the Dark One want with a genie, particularly one as tricky and as dangerous as Jafar?  And why are _you_ working with Gold?  I thought you two were enemies.  Didn’t he send some wraith to kill you?  I assume you returned the favor when that didn’t work.”

Despite talk of the Jabberwocky—who Regina knew enough of to _never_ want to meet—she fund a genuinely amused laugh bubbling up.  “A lot has changed since you left Storybrooke.”

And hadn’t it just.  Her mother had shown up, and then her mother had died.  She had lost Henry—so many times—and then found him again.  Her only friend (and enemy and former teacher) had turned out to be her son’s grandfather, and then the two of them had joined with the Charmings, of all people, to rescue Henry from someone more evil than either of them had ever been.  And all the ironies didn’t even _touch_ the fact that Rumplestiltskin had nearly killed himself to give Regina the chance to reverse the curse he’d once goaded her into casting.

_I thought you two were enemies,_ Will had said, but it had never been that simple.  Friends, competitors, enemies, partners…what were they?  Now Regina was in Wonderland, ostensibly to get a favor out of Rumplestiltskin, but in truth she’d come because she’d faced the Black Fairy  down and knew how dangerous the legendary fae was, knew that the Black Fairy would to do their world—and her son—if given the chance.  It probably said something very sad about the world when the fate of the Enchanted Forest rested on the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin turning _good_ again.  Neither of them were heroes, but they were what they were.

“I’m thinking that’s more than a lot,” Will interrupted her musings dubiously.

“You have no idea,” Regina replied drily, but Robin spoke up before Will could express more doubt.

“Look, Will, you know I wasn’t picked up by the curse,” the outlaw said.  “So you can imagine my surprise when everyone came back to the Enchanted Forest because Queen Regina had reversed her curse and Rumplestiltskin had supposedly killed himself to give her the oppurtunity to do it.  Then we had our hands full of a Wicked Witch and an Evil Fairy, and suddenly we were at war.  I know it seems absolutely insane, but believe me if you can’t believe Regina.  The entire fate of the Enchanted Forest might very well depend upon the success of our mission here.”

“Only you would be idealistic enough to work with the Evil Queen,” Will retorted, and then turned to eye Regina again.  “So, you’re supposed to be a good guy, now, huh?”

That made her snort. “More like moderately reformed.”

“I suppose that’s more believable, anyway,” the White King shrugged.  “In that case…you _do_ know that Jafar tried to change the laws of magic, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied darkly.

“He actually succeeded for a bit.  But we stopped him.”

Will seemed to be expecting Regina to express displeasure with the fact that he and whatever hero friends he had had taken Jafar down, but if that was the case, he’d be waiting a long time.  Although in her youth Regina had hoped to use magic to bring back the dead, she’d learned her lesson.  Magic always came at a price, and the cost of breaking the laws of magic would be high enough to scramble an entire world.  _That’s what I’ve been feeling,_ she realized abruptly.  The strangeness in the air wasn’t just Wonderland being Wonderland.  It was a useless and trippy place, a world populated by people who acted like a three year old on a sugar high, but that didn’t explain the oddness in the very fabric of the world itself.  Jafar’s actions, however, did.

The scars from that little power trip would persist for decades, she realized.  At least Regina had cast a _curse,_ something that wouldn’t harm the nature of magic or a magical realm. Despite all her rage and pain, she’d never been _this_ reckless, and she suddenly understood why Rumplestiltskin wanted Jafar where he could keep an eye on him.

Hell, Regina was starting to feel the same way.

“Good,” she replied, quirking a smile at Robin before turning back to Will.  “And now we’ll take him off your hands so he doesn’t try that crap again.”

Will shot her another doubtful look, but at least now he disagreed with what she was saying rather than Regina’s motives.  “Wouldn’t being a genie stop him?  I couldn’t do much other than my master’s wishes when I was stuck as one.”

Regina snorted.  “You weren’t already a sorcerer.  Jafar’s magic isn’t limited to what the lamp gives him.  All it would take is someone dumb enough to let him wander around free between wishes.”

“Ugh.  I suppose we should have held onto ‘im, then.”

“You had no way to know and a world to save,” Robin spoke up.  “And besides, it hasn’t happened yet.  Likely, Jafar’s biding his time.”

“And lulling us into a false sense of security.  Yeah, I get the picture.”

Perhaps Will was smarter than Regina’s first impression made him appear, because he strode forward with renewed purpose, leading the way along the muddy path through the Gummer Slough, not even complaining when swamp muck made its way into his shiny new boots like he had earlier.  For her part, Regina wished she could simply clear the worst of the swamp away with a wave of one hand, but magic was a little odd in Wonderland.  Sometimes it was weaker than she expected and sometimes stronger; teleporting didn’t seem to work but fireballs and other complex spells leapt easily to hand.  She supposed that spending enough time there would even things out, rather like it had in Storybrooke, but Regina had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out.

The rest of their trip to the rundown hut (clearly the old man hadn’t used a wish on this) deep in the Gummer Slough passed in friendlier conversation.  Robin and Will reminisced about old jobs gone wrong and then traded tales about what they’d been up to since parting ways.  Robin told a few stories about the trouble he and Regina had gotten into during the early days of the war against the Witch, and even Regina laughed when he recounted the tale of Little John trying to shove the sorceress into a river.

“I can’t picture the Evil Queen running with the Merry Men,” Will admitted after that.

Regina smirked.  “Sorceresses don’t run, dear.  We teleport.”

“Same difference.”

“Not particularly,” she retorted lightly.  “In fact—”

“There it is,” Robin interjected, his bow suddenly up and ready.  How _did_ Robin move so fast?  Even after all this time with him, Regina wasn’t sure.  “Between those two oak trees.”

Had Robin not gestured with his bow, Regina might never have spotted the ramshackle house.  It was buried so far in the trees and so overgrown that the moss-covered stones and rotting wood blended right in with the surroundings.  However, Regina got the feeling that the camouflage came from neglect rather than any purpose; the mess seemed natural, not planned.  And there wasn’t so much as a touch of magic on the place, genie or otherwise, though she could feel the slight glimmer of genie magic buried inside.  Sleeping.

“It’s in there,” she said, and the threesome strode up to the door together.

“How about I do the talking?” Will volunteered before Robin could knock.  “I don’t know the Old Man, but I do know Wonderland, an’ you don’t.”

“Sure,” Robin replied even as Regina shrugged:

“I’m here to deal with the genie, not smooze with the locals.  Be my guest.”

“Right-o, t hen.  Let’s do this.”  Will knocked.

And then knocked again when there was no answer.

And again.

Even a quick scan of the place revealed no movement inside, and they could hear nothing at all.  Just in case someone had to be woken up, Will pounded enthusiastically on the door, but nothing and no one stirred.

Regina groaned.  “There’s no one here.  I am _not_ standing out here until the old guy gets home.”

They’d spent too much time in Wonderland already.  There was no way to know what was going on at home, if Henry was safe or if the Black Fairy had captured him while Regina was away.  She was sick of this place, and worried for her son, and Regina had had damn well enough. 

The door burst open before she could even shape her magic to her will, creaking on ancient hinges and looking ready to splinter.  Robin and Will exchanged a glance, and then the White King grinned.

“Well, I suppose we’re back to bein’ thieves, then,” Will said, his voice chipper and not at all disappointed.  Regina got the feeling that he found ruling Wonderland extremely boring, and obviously left the messy business of being a monarch to his wife.

“Maybe not,” she murmured, leading the way into the room.  Magic swept before her as she did so, slipping into every nook and cranny in that small hut and searching out tricks, traps, and— _Oh.  Well, that explains why he didn’t answer the door._ Already knowing what she would find, Regina stepped behind the overturned table to look at the decomposing body of the old man they’d sought.  Her spell insisted that he’d died of natural causes, probably old age, and he’d been dead for a while.  Probably two weeks, maybe longer.

“Poor bastard,” Will said softly.

“Living alone and dying alone,” Robin agreed.  “I can’t imagine anything worse.”  His gaze met Regina’s, and she could see his heart shining in his eyes.  Once Regina had thought that this old man’s fate would be hers; once, she’d thought she’d accepted that.  But the old hole in her heart was closing and healing over, and she would never forget how lucky she was.

But they had a job to do, so Regina squared her shoulders and bent to pick up the lamp at the old man’s side.  It lay on the floor only inches away from the body.  Had he hoped to save himself with a wish?  If he had, the old man had moved too late.  A quick scan told Regina that the genie was indeed still trapped inside his lamp, so the old man hadn’t even managed to release him.  In fact, he hadn’t used _any_ of his three wishes at all.  But why keep a genie if you weren’t going to make a wish?  Even her idiot too-good husband had managed better than that.  Regina’s fingers touched the handle on the edge of the lamp.

“Mistress mine, my will is thine.  Tell me your wishes three—”

“Save it for someone who cares,” Regina cut him off, rolling her eyes.  “I already know the rules, and I’m not interested in making any wishes.”

Jafar turned to face her, a calculating look sweeping over his handsome features.  Were good looks a requirement for becoming a genie?  Sidney hadn’t exactly been hard on the eyes, although Will wasn’t Regina’s type at all.  Jafar, however, wore the expression of a man who knew he could manipulate people, particularly women, and he was gazing at Regina like she was a potential chess piece.

“Then whatever would you want a genie for, Mistress mine?” he asked in a voice more suited for the bedroom than a trashy old house.

Regina snorted at the fool.  “I don’t want a _genie_ at all…Jafar.”

“Then grant me my freedom and I will forever be in your debt.”

“Fat chance,” Will cut in, and the sorcerer-turned-genie wheeled to face him.  “You get to stay in that lamp, y’bastard.  Whether you like it or not.”

Hatred flared in Jafar’s eyes, and Regina felt his magic rising to attack the White King.  But as a genie, Jafar was more handicapped than he’d been as a sorcerer, so while Regina could have stopped him with brute force, she chose a more efficient method.

“Attack _anyone_ that I don’t tell you to, and you’ll be back in this lamp for the entire trip back to the Enchanted Forest,” she snapped.

Curiosity seemed to stop him as much as the threat did.  Slowly, the burst of power simmered down to a mere whisper, and Regina watched him curiously.  Jafar was powerful indeed, and would be a useful ally—if they could trust him.  Which they couldn’t, of course.  The genie was obviously already thinking about ways to get around the power holding the lamp gave her.

“I do hope you’ll tell me what your wishes are, then, Lady…?”

“Queen,” Robin cut in, a smirk playing across his face.  But Jafar didn’t give him a chance to continue, turning to Will with a malicious smile. 

“Did you lose little Ana already, Knave?” the sorcerer mocked the younger man.  “That was a quick mourning period, but I suppose needs must…”

Will went red.  “You—”

“I’m no Queen of Wonderland,” Regina cut in before Will could snarl anything more, meeting Jafar’s nasty grin with her own.  “I’m the Evil Queen.  I’m sure you’ve heard of me.  And you’ll be coming with me if you like it or not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you yet again to all my wonderful readers! Questions for this chapter: 1) Do you think Regina will wind up using any wishes to keep Jafar in line (when he undoubtedly tries to get out of his situation) and 2) Now that Grumpy and co. have found the Grove of Six Trees, what will happen?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 40: “The Puzzle Assembles”, in which traps come in pairs, Norco returns, and Rumplestiltskin’s bad feeling comes around to bite him.


	41. The Puzzle Assembles

**_Chapter Forty—“The Puzzle Assembles”_ **

 

“Right this way,” Ruby said as gently as she could, leading a rather beautiful and traumatized young man towards the camp that Snow’s soldiers had set up in the woods near Caer Dallben.  So far, they had rescued almost one hundred prisoners from the Grove of Six Trees, all of which had walked out stumbling and confused, like they were waking from a horrible nightmare.  They came from towns all over the Enchanted Forest, and most had no idea how long they’d been there.  Some thought that they’d been prisoners for years or even decades, and at least one middle-aged woman insisted that she’d been taken by the fae as a child.

Belle, who knew more about magic than any of the others, had wondered if some of the prison cells might have actually been pockets where time ran faster than it did outside, but there was no way to be sure.  All they could do for now was get the former prisoners to safety and try to keep Grumpy from overextending himself while he tried to help everyone.  Ruby wasn’t as close to the dwarf as Snow and Belle were, but he was still her friend, and she wasn’t above bullying some common sense into him, particularly if it kept him from hurting himself further.  Hopefully, that was why he’d headed over to the mess tent for something to eat.  Either that, or he’d just walked away to shut her up.  Still, Ruby would take the victories where she could find them.

“Thank you,” the young man whispered shakily, and Ruby smiled as she handed him off to a medic.

“You’re welcome.  Let me know if you need anything.”

The poor kid nodded, and Ruby stepped away, heading back towards where Belle and Snow stood together, not far from the entrance to the Grove of Six Trees.  Belle had a book in her hands again—a new one, Ruby thought—and was frowning thoughtfully at the page.

“…far too easy,” Snow was agreeing.

“It _could_ just be that Norco slipped up,” Belle replied, but she didn’t sound like she believed that herself.  “Though I doubt he accidentally let the name of the grove slip in front of Grumpy.”

“You think it’s a trap,” Ruby joined the conversation, a lump of worry forming in her stomach.  She’d known this had been too easy.  They all had.  Why had they ignored that?

Belle and Snow exchanged a glance.  “It has to be,” Belle said.  “This book says that the entrance to the Grove has to be opened with fae magic.”

“But it opened for us.” Ruby blinked, turning to stare at the withered tree stump they’d all stepped on to get inside the hidden fae grove.  It still sat there innocently, ancient and harmless looking, so low that it was almost flush with the ground.  At first, they’d thought the Grove of Six Trees was the area around the stump, but now they knew that the stump was just a gateway to somewhere much more surreal. 

“Exactly,” Snow put in grimly.  “And that means Norco wanted us to find it.  And these people.”

“That means we can’t afford to camp here.”  Ruby’s mind whirled into motion.  She was good at organizing people, and perhaps more importantly, her time working at Granny’s had taught her what it took to care for so many people all at once.  Much to her surprise, Ruby had even found she had a talent for knowing what logistics were required to keep an army moving during the war, something David had put to good use more than once.  Now she started thinking madly, calculating how long it would take to disassemble the camp that they’d just spent hours building.  _Too long._ “We need to get these people out of here.  Fast.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that,” a new voice purred, making all three women spin around. 

A slender, dark haired man— _fae!_ —stood a dozen feet away from them, framed by flowering trees.  A silver ball of magic sparked in the air; he tossed it from hand to hand idly, playfully.  His body language was relaxed, and his movements unhurried, with dark gray and black robes swirling around him gently.  He smelled of earth and magic and evil, but his smile was sharp-edged and dangerous.  Ruby had never seen the fae that had captured Grumpy, but instinct told her that this was Norco.  And he was old, _powerful_.  Her wolf’s nose had always helped her know how much magic a person had, and Norco possessed a terrifyingly huge amount. 

Belle had dropped the book in shock—or maybe she hadn’t, because now the fae-catching net that Rumplestiltskin had enchanted for them was in her hands, and the brunette let go of it immediately after pulling it out.  The net flew towards Norco, covering the distance between them impossibly fast, reaching out to pin the fae to the ground and contain his magic.  It was on Norco before Ruby could even blink, but the moment the net touched the fae, it disintegrated, landing in a pile of ash at Norco’s feet.  Immediately, musical laughter filled the air.

“That might work on a lesser fae, beautiful, but it won’t work on me,” Norco replied, prowling forward.  The ball of magic still bounced between his hands, bright and shining and utterly distracting.  “Though _you_ might serve to distract me well enough.”

Snow’s bow was in hand and pointed at the fae before he could take three steps.  “Come any closer and I’ll shoot,” the Queen snapped.

“Should I feel threatened?”  Norco cocked his head at Snow, looking far more curious than frightened. 

“Let’s find out.” During their time in Storybrooke, Ruby had often forgotten how tough Snow could be, but today Snow as showing her true colors.  Even when she’d been a frightened princess on the run, Snow had been stronger than almost anyone else Ruby had ever met.  Matching her friend’s actions, Ruby drew her own sword and noticed Belle doing the same.  They were ready to fight if they had to.

But a casual wave of Norco’s hands made all of their weapons disappear, leaving Ruby’s hands to close around thin air instead of the hilt of her sword.  The fae’s smile was brilliant, and now there was nothing lazy in his actions; now he was a predator, sizing up his prey with enthusiasm.   Until he turned to look at Snow and Ruby, his eyes critical.  “A queen and a wolf,” he scoffed.  “Boring.”

Without warning, magic swirled around them, sharp and smelling of power and darkness.  The cloud surrounding them was dense and silver in color, interspersed with black and purple swirls that pulled at Snow and Ruby relentlessly, yanking them off their feet and then depositing them on the ground somewhere other than where they had been before.  It stung something wicked, too, and Ruby heard Snow yelp even as she hissed in pain.  When the magic cleared away, they were now the ones standing a dozen feet away from Belle while Norco stopped in front of her, barely an arm’s length away.  For her part, Belle stood her ground and glared at the fae, her blue eyes perhaps a little wider than usual but no less courageous.

“What do you want?” Belle demanded, even as Ruby and Snow rushed towards her.  There was no way Ruby was going to let the fae who had hurt Grumpy like that anywhere near her friend, even if they didn’t have weapons. Ruby was stronger than she looked, and—

The fingers on Norco’s left hand twitched, and they smashed into a barrier that felt like a steel wall.  She and Snow bounced off as Ruby snarled in fury and pain—this magic hurt like mad, and both would be covered in bruises before too long.  They landed hard on their behinds, temporarily dazed, but not so much that they didn’t jump right to their feet.  However, a slight shimmering filled the air in front of them, a barricade standing between them and their friend, keeping them from helping Belle at all.  Meanwhile, Norco answered Belle’s question:

“You.  You’re… _interesting._   Touched by magic, and yet not a sorceress.  And your heart, oh, your heart is fascinating.” 

“My heart?” Belle took a hesitant step backwards, and Ruby was relieved to see that Norco let her.  “What do you want with my heart?”

“You are quite extraordinary, aren’t you?” he said instead of answering her question.  Leering.  “Quite a _believer._ ”

“What are you talking about?” Belle demanded, taking another cautious step back.

“The Heart of the Truest Believer is a curious power,” Norco purred.  “Right now it resides inside a child, but should that child die…untimely, another will immediately follow…and that will be _you_.” 

Belle started.  “Me?”

“Oh, yes.  What is your name, beautiful?  I could certainly imagine keeping you as my pet for eternity.”  Norco bounced forward a step, and Ruby could see Belle trying to withdraw again, but now magic held her in place.  She fought against the spell to no avail, and now Ruby could see dread starting to creep into her blue eyes.  Slowly, smiling all the while, Norco reached out to touch Belle’s cheek.  She recoiled, but obviously could not move away.

“I’m not your pet,” Belle snapped.  “I’m not going to _be_ your pet, no matter what you say.”  Her blue eyes met his dark ones fearlessly.  “And you’re not killing Henry, either.”

“Oh, so you know the boy?  How convenient.”

“Hey!” Next to Ruby, Snow was on her feet and holding up a handful of the fairy dust Tink had snuck to them.  “Leave her alone.”

Norco actually bounced with amusement, shaking with laughter.  “Oh, and why should I do that, little human queen?  Are you going to throw dust from my tiny cousins at me?”

“Fairy dust is the least of your worries once I get a hold of you,” Ruby growled, feeling the wolf inside her raging.  Wolves were pack animals, and Belle was her _friend._   More than a friend.  The wolf saw Belle as part of Ruby’s pack, and the wolf was ready to tear Norco limb from limb.  With her teeth.

“And the wolf wants to bite me.  How quaint.  But I _was_ bored with the dwarf and looking for hero types, so I suppose I’m satisfied with your arrival.”  Norco wheeled back to face Belle.  “Loyal friends you have here.”

“Don’t look so surprised,” Belle shot back, and the fae smiled.

“Brave and believing,” he said softly, possessively, desire filling his eyes.  “When we kill the boy, my mistress will let me keep you, and I will _enjoy_ it.”

Ruby shuddered.  She had seen that kind of hunger before, had seen men who abused women and thought it made them powerful.  She was hardly royalty, after all, and had lived a plain peasant’s life before becoming friends with a princess.  Granny had tried to protect her, and nothing terrible had ever happened to _Red_ before she realized that she was a werewolf, but she’d still seen this kind of man preying upon innocent peasant women.  Norco might not have been human, but Ruby still knew exactly what he was.   Immortal magical being or not, he was the type of trash that Granny kept the crossbow under the counter for.  They had to do something—but what?

Belle, however, beat them to it, looking Norco right in the eye as he reached out to touch her face again.  “I doubt that,” she told him firmly, and then smiled.  “Rumplestiltskin.”

 

****************

 

The call had burned into him like a brand, with Belle’s voice filling his mind and lighting every corner of his soul on fire.  Still at David and Snow’s castle, Rumplestiltskin had been spending some much-overdue time with his grandson and teaching the lad to play chess when the call came, driven by the force of Belle’s love for him and made strong by her unbending confidence that he would come to save her.  _To save her._   Every vision he’d had suddenly congealed into a concrete certainty that Belle was in danger, and the pieces fell into place.  The previously confusing puzzle assembled itself at an alarming rate, and he could suddenly See everything.

Belle.  Norco.  Snow and Ruby, talk of a Heart and _desire._   Norco wanting—

Rumplestiltskin was on his feet before he even registered moving, before the danger to Belle fully sank in.  He knew what Norco wanted, and now he knew that leaving Norco alive—all to send a message!—had been possibly the worst mistake he had ever made in his life.  He had taken a chance, and he had endangered the woman he loved by doing so.  Of course Norco would find her fascinating.  Had Rumplestiltskin not felt the same, even in the depths of his worst evil?  Even the darkness inside Rumplestiltskin had been drawn to Belle from the start, just as moths were drawn to a flame.  Norco would be no different, but he was _far_ worse than Rumplestiltskin had been as the Dark One.

Absolutely not.  He was not going to allow that to happen.  He was not going to lose Belle, was not going to let that monster of a fae lay so much as a hand on her.  She meant _everything_ to him, and Rumplestiltskin would protect her.  No matter what it cost him.

“Henry, I have to go.  Tell your father that I’ll talk to him when I…when I get back.”

Rumplestiltskin changed what he was going to say midstream, as another flash of vision hit him, a bit of knowledge that told him that he would possibly _not_ be back as soon as he wanted to be.  There was a trap there, wasn’t there?  It wasn’t Norco’s doing, and yet Rumplestiltskin knew there was one all the same.  His sight wasn’t terribly specific, but that bad feeling he’d had since bringing Belle to meet Snow was back, and this time at least Rumplestiltskin knew where the problems would begin.  _Do this the smart way,_ he told himself, pushing aside the raging need to race immediately to Belle’s side.  _Do_ not _let your emotions force you into acting precipitously._ Only centuries of iron-hard self-control allowed him to stop himself, to think.

“Is everything okay, Grandpa?” Henry asked.

“No.”  He felt cold.  Only a few seconds had passed while his mind raced, but a few seconds could be too many.  “Belle’s in danger.”

“Good luck!” Henry’s voice followed him even as Rumplestiltskin vanished, pulling power to himself as he teleported, focusing on his love for Belle and pushing aside his fears for her safety.  Norco would not kill her yet; no, he was the type who liked to play with his food before eating it.  Norco was arrogant enough to see Belle as nothing more than prey to be toyed with, a possession to be won. 

So he appeared behind the shield Norco had constructed, behind a few trees and two dozen or so feet away.  It absolutely killed Rumplestiltskin to stand by while Norco laughed at Belle, brushing hair out of her face while she bristled angrily.  She was so strong, his love, so unbelievably strong.  Without magic, Rumplestiltskin knew he would never have had the courage to face down a powerful fae like she was.  But he had always been the coward, whereas Belle’s courage had awed him from the beginning.  She was the most amazing woman Rumplestiltskin had ever met, and the love he felt for her always gave him strength.  Just thinking of Belle, of their love, made power surge through Rumplestiltskin—sweet and pure _power_ , True Love racing to his fingertips.

Snow and Ruby were still standing right in front of the shield, with the wolf snarling furiously at Norco while the fae completely ignored them both.  His attention was still on Belle.  Her strength was a magnet to someone with so much darkness inside them, and Norco was practically drooling on her.

“…not important enough to come for, apparently,” Norco gloated.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Belle snapped back.  “Or about Rumplestiltskin, apparently.”

“I know everything I need to know about Merlin, pet,” the fae replied smugly.  “And you’re not his type.”

Still gathering power, pulling threads and making preparations, Rumplestiltskin smiled to himself.  Norco would not be nearly so arrogant if he knew Rumplestiltskin was there, even if he was still convinced that he was Merlin.  That assumption had already cost Norco and his mistress more than once, and here it was, ready to bite them both again. 

No, Belle really wasn’t Merlin’s type.  Hero sort that he was, Merlin had liked his women darker and more prone to going off and becoming evil.  She was too good for Merlin, ironically enough.  Belle was, however, the very center of Rumplestiltskin’s battered soul, the one who had pulled him back from the edge so many times and always kept him centered.  Belle was _extraordinary_ , daring and strong and so very good.  Norco was drawn to her because he wanted to destroy her, but Rumplestiltskin loved her for what she was—and for what she encouraged him to become.  There was no way he would ever let anyone hurt her, not while he lived.  That determination only further fueled his magic, added strength to the power racing through him, and when Rumplestiltskin stepped out of the trees, magic swirled around him, deeper than any ocean and twice as wide.

“She might not be Merlin’s type, dearie, but I’m no Merlin,” Rumplestiltskin interjected, reaching out with his magic and snatching Belle away from Norco.  Had it been anyone else’s magic—had it been dark in nature, as his used to be—Belle might have tried to fight it, but he could _feel_ her recognition traveling along the lines of power connecting them, and then suddenly Belle was standing next to him, practically in his arms.

The brilliant smile she threw him made every moment of struggle in their relationship worth it.  “I knew you’d come.”

“Never doubt it.”

Rumplestiltskin burned to kiss her, but now wasn’t the time.  Or was it?  Even as the thought occurred to him, Norco launched an attack, a wave of fairy dust and darkness that was designed to tear the two of them to pieces.  But there was so much power racing through him that all Rumplestiltskin had to do was hold up a hand, and the spell rebounded on Norco, making the fae cry out and stagger as his own darkness ripped into him.  _Interesting._    He’d not focused on his rage or his desire to hurt Norco; instead, Rumplestiltskin had simply been driven to protect Belle, and the magic racing out of him was pure light magic.

He’d known that the power he had inherited allowed for light and dark magic in equal measure, but Rumplestiltskin had always assumed that his soul was too corrupted for such purity.  Yet there he stood, with Belle’s hands on his arm and a kind of greeting in her blue eyes that he once could not have imagined.  Just looking at her made his heart fill with love, smoothed over the scars on his heart and in his soul.  So he _did_ turn to kiss Belle while Norco struggled back to his feet, feeling the power rush through him along with Belle’s uncompromising love.

“I love you,” Belle whispered.

“I love you, too.  And I always will,” he replied, unafraid to say it in front of Norco since he had no intention of allowing Norco to live through this encounter.  Not after the bastard had tried to hurt Belle.

_Those_ thoughts brought the darkness within him rearing back up, and it merged with the True Love singing through his system to further fuel Rumplestiltskin’s complex protective magic, lending strength to the spell he had already cast to keep Norco from teleporting away.  Still, he could not afford to ignore the fae for long, so Rumplestiltskin gave Belle a smile before stepping away from her, and walking straight through the shield Norco had erected to keep Belle’s friends from helping her.  Snow and Ruby immediately rushed over to Belle’s side, obviously ready to fight with her if it came to that, but Rumplestiltskin intended to keep that from becoming necessary. 

A flick of his wrist brought the shield crashing down around him, fairy dust stinging slightly as it sparkled over his skin.  But that was of little importance; he could shrug the effect off and wash it away later with little effort.  Norco was summoning great magics, beginning spells that were amongst the strongest the fae had ever created—but Rumplestiltskin had been ready for this.  He’d paused for a few moments before coming for a reason, and now power raced out of his hands as he brought both up, using his fierce love for Belle to fuel magic of the type Norco could never understand.  Golden light reared out from his fingers, wrapping around his opponent and freezing him in place. 

Laughing, Norco tried to throw the spell aside, obviously assuming that doing so would be easy.  But Rumplestiltskin was not playing games today.  He had Norco’s measure after their last fight, knew what needed to be done and knew how to beat him.  Powerful though Norco was, he was no original power.  Besides, Rumplestiltskin had killed many fairies over the years.  He had perfected a method of doing so, of catching fairies by surprise and slaying them before any of them could so much as react to his presence.  Doing so to a fae with Norco’s power was almost impossible—or at least would have been if Rumplestiltskin had not been able to freeze him first.  Wild power erupted off of the fae as he fought against the grip of Rumplestiltskin’s, of Merlin’s, magic, but he could not break the hold.  Finally, Norco hissed:

“You _love_ her.”

“Of course I do,” Rumplestiltskin replied, striding up to look Norco in the face.  His smile was vicious.  “Did you fail to notice _True Love_ , Norco?  I keep telling you that I am _not_ Merlin.  Perhaps now you’ll understand that.”

“You—” Norco cut off, his eyes wide.  “You can’t.  You were onlythe Dark One.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed.  “Never just that, Norco.  And never again.”

Without a further word, his magic closed around the fae, twisting and pressing _just so_.  Even Snow and Ruby felt the power used; the ground trembled slightly and Norco cried out once, his eyes starting to glow with the spell forced into him.  The gold swirl tightened around the fae, and then Norco vanished in an implosion of darkness and fairy dust, just as so many fairies had done before him.  He left no wand behind, but Rumplestiltskin had grown bored with collecting those, anyway.  Killing Norco—a genuine monster, one worse than he’d ever been—was reward enough.  This was not a death he’d ever even begin to regret; just thinking about what Norco would have to Belle made his blood boil.

So, if his smile was cold as Rumplestiltskin turned away, no one should have been surprised.  He didn’t giggle or wiggle.  The imp inside him was gone for good, leaving only Rumplestiltskin in its wake.  But he was still a man who loved deeply, one who had no problem viciously destroying those who endangered those he cared about.  Try to be better though he would, Rumplestiltskin would also never flinch away from what needed to be done to protect his family, nor would he have qualms of conscience over what needed to be done.  He was who he was, and he would always—

A sudden touch of magic, feather-light, made a chill race up his spine. 

There it was.  There was the trap, the one Rumplestiltskin had known was coming.  The one his visions had Seen.  Norco had died easily enough—comparatively speaking, though the use of that much power left even Rumplestiltskin light headed and a little weak—but the _pull_ following Norco’s death was unmistakable.  Even when he turned to smile at Belle he felt it, and his heart clenched as Rumplestiltskin realized what was about to happen.  He had expected something, but not this. 

_Check_ , he thought distantly.  The Black Fairy had made her moves and put the pieces into place, and she had waited with as much patience as he had.  This round definitely went to Danns, even if he had just killed her favorite.  She probably had anticipated this from the moment he had sent Norco to her with that message. 

“Belle, I’m sorry—” he started, but he never got to say what for.  Never got to say that he would see her again, that this was only temporary.  Never got to tell her that he wanted to marry  her, never got to promise that everything would be all right.  He only had a moment to work a quick trick of magic, to transfer thoughts into words.  There was no time for anything more.  Instead, Rumplestiltskin vanished, yanked off his feet by fae magic that swept him into a land where mere humans could not follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions for this chapter: 1) What type of trap do you think Rumplestiltskin has just been sucked into and 2) What do you think Belle is going to do about it?
> 
> Next up is Chapter 41: “Checkmate”, where Jafar and Regina face off and Rumplestiltskin reencounters an “old friend”. In the meantime, please let me know what you think!


	42. Checkmate

**_Chapter Forty-One—“Checkmate”_ **

 

Rumplestiltskin was gone.

For the second time, Belle watched her True Love vanish in a swirl of Dark Magic and was left grasping at thin air.  But this time things were different.  This time, Rumplestiltskin had not killed himself, had not disappeared in a swirl of brilliant white light that marked his self-sacrifice.  Instead he’d been sucked up by a storm of black fairy dust, whisked away while Belle watched helplessly.  _Not this time!_ she thought desperately to herself, lunging forward into the cloud and grabbing for him.  He’d apologized, which meant Rumplestiltskin knew _something_ was happening—knowing him, he knew exactly what—but Belle had no idea what he was sorry for.  Was this going to kill him?  He had killed Norco, and then what?  What had happened?

Whatever it was, Belle was not about to let her love face it alone.  Not this time.  This time she would not let him go.  But Belle’s hands closed on thin air even as she choked helplessly on fairy dust.  The cloud was empty by the time she got there, and a cry ripped out of Belle, her memory full of standing on a Storybrooke street, watching Rumplestiltskin stab himself and Pan, watching her True Love kill himself—

“No…”  But he was gone, and there was nothing she could do about it.  _Gone._   “Oh, no.  No, no no no…”

With an effort, she caught herself.  She would not fall.  She would not give in.  If there was one thing Rumplestiltskin had taught her, it was never to assume someone was dead until you saw the body.  And even then, what with the powerful types of curses that existed in the world, seeing a body didn’t guarantee someone was dead.  And she would have _known_ if Rumple was dead.  Her heart would have told her if that were so, because the horrible emptiness she remembered from losing her True Love wasn’t present.  In fact—

“Belle?” Snow asked her quietly, interrupting her devastated train of thought.

She would not cry, even if her heart wanted to break.

“Where did he go?” Ruby stepped forward to put a hand on her arm, looking worried. 

“I don’t know.”  Belle forced herself to take a deep breath, blinking back the tears that wanted to rise.  _You give me strength_ , Rumplestiltskin had once told her.  He had the power, and Belle had the strength.  She would be strong.  She had to be.  “I think…I think something pulled him away.”

Snow and Ruby exchanged glances, but the queen was the one to voice the question: “Pulled away or killed?  Could Norco have done something?”

“I think—” 

“What’s this?” Ruby interjected, drawing both Belle’s and Snow’s attention to a slip of paper on the ground, only inches away from her right foot.  Had it been there the entire time?  Slowly—holding her breath, although she did not know why—Belle bent to pick it up, feeling a slight tingle run up her arm as her fingers touched the parchment.  Immediately, her heart leapt. 

Belle would have known Rumplestiltskin’s magic anywhere.  She’d found it more difficult to recognize during her early days at the Dark Castle, but after living with him in Storybrooke and now, she knew it when she touched it.  And this paper, this _note_ , had been born of that magic.  Slowly, with her hands trying to shake, Belle unfolded the note Rumplestiltskin had left behind.  She knew at first glance that the note came from him; Belle knew that meticulous handwriting like the back of her own hand, and could even tell the difference between a note written with magic and one written by hand.  This one had been created with magic only, and in a hurry.  Belle swallowed hard.  Rumple had only been able to say that he was sorry, but perhaps this note could tell her what for. 

_Belle—I am so sorry that I must allow this to happen.  I will see you again, and sooner than you think.  I promise.  I love you—R._

“Is it from him, or did the fae drop it?” Ruby prompted her when Belle fell silent, reading the note over again.  And then again.

“No, it’s from Rumple.  It’s maddeningly unhelpful, but it’s from him.” 

Still, Belle refolded the parchment and pressed it to her heart, imagining that she could feel the touch of his love on the paper.  Rumplestiltskin had left this for her, despite whatever had happened to him.  He’d left it so she wouldn’t worry, and although that wouldn’t work, at least Belle knew he wasn’t dead.  If he’d been dead, there would have been no time to leave a note, and _that_ at least could give her hope.  She had read a book back in Storybrooke that had said that the all human wisdom could be contained in the words _wait_ and _hope_.  So that she would have to do.

“What happened to him?” Snow wondered.

“I don’t know,” Belle answered honestly.  “But I’m going to find out.”

 

****************

 

“What exactly is it that you _want_?” Jafar asked Regina when Will and Robin had gone off to hunt down something to shoot, cook, and eat (preferably in that order).  That left her alone with the sorcerer-turned-genie for a rather overdue conversation.

Jafar had been strangely docile so far, but Regina could read men well enough to know that he was simply biding his time.  The man who had successfully, if temporarily, changed the laws of magic was no fool.  He was not the type to act rashly, and he was not going to antagonize Regina unless he thought he could get something out of it.  In fact, he’d been entirely too polite so far, which only further riled Regina up—after this long in Wonderland, she was spoiling for a good fight.  Unfortunately, Jafar didn’t seem to want to pick that fight while she had his lamp, which said a lot for his intelligence level, but didn’t exactly do much to calm Regina’s strained temper.

So she gave him a mysterious smile.  _If he can annoy me, I can annoy him right back._   “It’s not what _I_ want with you.  I’m fetching you for someone else.”

“Oh, are you?  I didn’t know that the Evil Queen was willing to play errand girl.”  His eyes twinkled; damn the man, he _was_ clever.  Those words were delivered perfectly to get right under her skin.

“When it gets me something I want, I’m willing to do a friend a favor,” Regina snapped back.

“A friend, is it?  And who might that be?” Jafar wondered, his eyes wandering over Regina suggestively. 

Once, she might have taken his frank assessment as a compliment, or perhaps even an invitation.  There was a time when the Evil Queen would have been rather eager to invite a powerful and attractive sorcerer into her bed—provided she got something useful out of it—but now she found the idea rather nauseating.  Yes, Jafar was handsome and probably would make a powerful ally, but while she held his lamp, Jafar really had little choice in the matter.  _And if he figures out a way around that, and gets too frisky, I’ll just rip his heart out._   Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t play with him a bit.

“Are you sensing competition?” Regina purred, stepping close to the taller man and giving him a coy smile.  She’d never been terribly good a seduction, but Regina did know how to read people.  And Jafar didn’t seem to need much encouragement.

“Should I be?” he murmured back, working magic behind her back that the arrogant fool probably thought Regina wouldn’t notice.  Yet she’d been trained by someone far more thorough than him, and Regina hadn’t survived years of being the Evil Queen because she’d been careless.  _No one,_ not even Rumplestiltskin had ever bested her through straight up magic, and Regina aimed to keep it that way.

Her bout with the Black Fairy didn’t count.  The Black Fairy wasn’t human, and Regina had still done better than any sorceress in history against her.  She’d _lived_ , unlike even legends like Circe, and Regina counted that as a victory.  After all, her ultimate goal had been to keep Henry safe, and Henry was still safe.  Even if he was with Emma and Rumplestiltskin’s annoyingly resilient son.  Still, there were worse places for her precious boy to be, and they would both protect Henry with their lives, which meant Regina was free to toy with Jafar all she wanted, and was confident that she could get the better of him.

“I’m not your type, dear,” Regina replied archly.  “You couldn’t handle me.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” Jafar countered, lifting a hand to touch Regina’s carefully coifed hair.

Catching the hand before it could make contact, Regina smiled nastily and flicked a bit of magic at the genie, just enough to keep him on his toes and hurt a little.  Jafar jumped, but Regina didn’t let go; she kept her eyes locked with Jafar’s and continued to smile.  “You’re not going to be the judge of anything except how comfortable the inside of your lamp is unless you keep your hands to yourself.”

“Well, that’s hardly any fun.”

“I’m not here for your entertainment,” she retorted.  “And I’m not _interested_ in you, either, Jafar, so you keep those hands of yours where I can see them, and don’t even _think_ about whatever spell you’ve got waiting to drop on me.  Can it, or I’ll have you back in that lamp so fast that it’ll take your new owner _weeks_ to pry you out.”

“New owner?” the genie echoed with a frown.  “Who _are_ you taking me to?”

But the spell that had been lurking in the background and steadily growing in strength simmered down to the barest whisper.  Regina contemplated calling Jafar on it, but she’d learned a lesson or two in manipulation herself, and decided that it could wait.  It might be useful if Jafar thought he could get a thing or two past her.  She would have to be on her toes, but Regina had never been one to pass up a challenge.

“That’s my little surprise,” she smirked in answer to his question.  “I _was_ thinking about telling you, but now I think I’ll wait until you’re better behaved.”

 

****************

 

The ride was rougher than Rumplestiltskin expected.  The Black Fairy’s magic deposited him in a completely empty room, one about fifteen by fifteen feet and covered in wood paneling.  The floor and the ceiling were paneled in the same wood, too, looking more natural than man-made, but most importantly, there wasn’t a window in sight.  _Or a door._

Her spell had dropped him hard, and Rumplestiltskin landed hard on one knee before her could catch himself, glancing around and taking in his surroundings within a few quick seconds.  Unfortunately, even a second glance did not reveal anything further; there was _nothing_ in the room, no entrance, no exit, and no furniture at all.  It was simply empty, even on a magical level.  There were no hidden traps or tricks, only complex and careful spells woven into every plank of wood, every nook and cranny.  The magic work was extraordinary in itself and would have taken him hours to unravel if he’d even been able to find a thread to start with, but the intricate way the spells were woven together gave Rumplestiltskin nowhere to start.  He supposed that enough brute power might be sufficient to break through the defenses, but doing that would certainly get him noticed.

Besides, despite the fact that the trap laid on Norco had caught him unawares, there were advantages to having been caught.  Danns' a'Bhàis would think she had won this round—and perhaps she had—but it was also high time that he had a chat with his predecessor’s old friend, adversary, and lover.  Obviously, she had expected him to kill Norco and planned accordingly.  She hadn’t been there to watch their fight, but she hadn’t needed to.  Her power had done her bidding without her commands, and done it well.  Rumplestiltskin didn’t appreciate being found so predictable, but perhaps he could use this.  He would have to.

Then he would have to get out of here as quickly as he could.  Rumplestiltskin might have left a note for Belle, but he wasn’t a fool.  Nor did he want to worry Belle any more than Rumplestiltskin knew she already was.  She was going to _kill_ him for this stunt, particularly if he was ever stupid enough to admit to her that he might have been able to find a way around the magic that had yanked him here.  But Rumplestiltskin hadn’t wanted to tip his hand that much, didn’t want to show the Black Fairy that he really wasn’t what Norco—and by extension, Danns' a'Bhàis—clearly thought he was.   _You were only the Dark One,_ Norco had told him once.  Never before had Rumplestiltskin listened to someone say that as if being the Dark One was not power enough, but he’d finally come to understand that the fae didn’t think much of the previous owners of his old curse.

What kind of men and women had they been, his predecessors?  Was Rumplestiltskin so unique because of what he had learned and what he had become?  Or was there something else going on here?  There was no way to know without pulling this string, without allowing himself to be taken.

So here he was, surrounded by layer upon layer of fae magic, waiting for the Black Fairy to arrive. Fortunately, Danns had never been the patient sort, which meant Rumplestiltskin did not have long to pace.

A door appeared where there had not been one before, opening to admit the queen of the fae herself.  She was alone, and the door vanished back into the woodwork before Rumplestiltskin could even start to figure out how that entrance worked, but what he could determine indicated that the doorway would only respond to fae magic.  _So much for that way out—_

He’d been distracted, and missed the spell that left her fingers as she twitched them.  Rumplestiltskin started to call on his own magic to counter her, but he was too slow, too late, and the fae magic permeating the wood-lined cell was powerful enough to dim his reactions, his power.  Using magic was like breathing underwater.  Before Rumplestiltskin knew it, bands of bronze closed around his wrists, his neck, and even around his ankles under his boots.  His reach abruptly floundered, his connection to his own magic cut off and leaving Rumplestiltskin gasping.  The last time those bands had cut him off from magic, Rumplestiltskin had thought himself incapable of reaching it at all, so he’d not been aware of the sudden aching emptiness, the painful _hole_ not having magic created. 

“Welcome back, old friend,” Danns said before he could bring himself back on balance, smiling the smile that Merlin’s memories told Rumplestiltskin meant she felt she was winning.  _Smug._

Rumplestiltskin felt his eyes narrowing.  “Not exactly the reception I was expecting.  If you wanted to chat, dearie, you could have just asked.”  He gestured as casually as he could at the band on his left wrist, ignoring the way his heart was pounding in his chest.  “Instead of using your old tricks.”

“Why find new ones when the old ones work so well?”

She had to be able to see his internal panic.  Wearing those bands made him _blind_.  He couldn’t feel, couldn’t see magic; he was helpless.  Somehow, Rumplestiltskin had managed to forget those damn bands, forget how they dug painfully into his skin and tore away the very power that gave him confidence, made him feel safe.  He was nothing without magic and had always known that; only through magic had the town coward become something more than a victim for others to mock, to abuse.  Only once in his life had he managed to do something good without magic, but killing Pan had landed him here for a year.  Or somewhere very like here.  Somehow, Rumplestiltskin knew that where they were was nowhere near Bremen.  Now he was deep in the domain of the fae, a place that the Black Fairy had not deemed necessary to bring him before but did now.

_I was less dangerous before._

“Then don’t expect me to thank you for the hospitality,” he snapped back at her, trying desperately to mask his fear.  He hadn’t expected this, but he should have.  He was such a fool.

Danns could recreate that last year if she wanted to, and Rumplestiltskin could do nothing to stop her.  She had magic.  He did not.  And now he knew enough to know that year had been mild by her standards; what Danns had done to Merlin so many centuries previously had been far worse.  Would she do that now?  _She thinks I’m Merlin._   Nothing good would come of this.

“I thought we might chat.”  Hazel eyes met his, dancing with a well-earned triumph.  But she was magnanimous in her victory.  Danns' a'Bhàis was content to fence with words for now, for she felt she had all the time in the world. 

Perhaps she did.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t certain that he _wasn’t_ immortal, now, for all he’d become aware of how shoehorning original power into a purely human body could create problems.  Yet he’d felt himself changing.  Felt the power sinking in deeper and deeper, felt its subtle way of adjusting the body that hosted such magic.  Rumplestiltskin had tried not to think of that, had tried not to let the fact that immortality might separate him from those he loved (again!) intrude upon the life and relationships he was trying to build.  He had to _live_ , Rumplestiltskin had realized upon escaping death so narrowly, upon being granted a second chance.  Whatever this power he’d unexpectedly inherited from Merlin did to him, he had to make it his own and not look back.  Yet the terrifying thought still lingered, particularly now that he was back in the hands of the Black Fairy.  Helpless.

Danns had won.  Her magic was tingling over him already, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.  He couldn’t stop her.  She could hold him for eternity, could hold him until those he loved were long dead and—

_Stop this.  Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow._

“If you’d wanted me to be polite, you should have extended a polite invitation,” Rumplestiltskin retorted, Belle’s words ringing in his ears.  _You give me strength,_ he’d told her, and even thinking of Belle made that true.  So he shrugged, the motion almost feeling as nonchalant as he tried to appear.  “Still, I suppose since we’re here, we might as well have that chat indeed.”

The smile he gave her reached his eyes, vicious and nasty and full of dangerous promises.  Rumplestiltskin might be frightened, but he’d lived with various fears for a very long time.  He wasn’t going to stop fighting just because he was afraid…because he could feel _her_ magic, he suddenly realized.  Not his own, no, but he could still feel magic.  And what he could feel, he could manipulate.  Perhaps he was not such a fool after all.

“I’m glad you see things my way,” the Black Fairy purred, a sly smile crossing her face in response to his hostility.  Waving her right hand, she conjured up two comfortable-looking chairs.  She then seated herself primly, crossing her legs and arranging her black and silver skirts just so.  “Do join me.”

He wanted to snap at her, wanted to snarl.  Had he still been cursed, Rumplestiltskin was certain that his temper would have irrevocably united with the demon inside him, and he would have attacked her, consequences be damned.  But he had a little better hold on his emotions these days, so Rumplestiltskin lowered himself into the offered chair—or tried to.  He almost missed on the first try, stumbling, with his hands grasping at thin air.  Being isolated from his magic threw his equilibrium off, made him dizzy and light-headed.  Without magic, even his balance was trashed, was _wrong_.

Danns was kind enough—or wise enough—not to mention his near mishap as Rumplestiltskin finally found the chair and seated himself.  It took all of the self-control he had to sit back and fold his hands, with his heart still pounding and nerves strung tight.  Rumplestiltskin’s throat was unbearably dry.  He’d jumped into this trap feet first, and found himself in deeper than he’d expected.  Yet he wasn’t beaten, Rumplestiltskin reminded himself.  Danns had made two critical assumptions, and he could still exploit that.

“I’m not sure I’d phrase it quite that way,” he replied easily.  “But you do have my attention.”

“Oh, I’m sure I do.”

A tense moment of silence passed, and then another.  A full minute ticked by as they studied one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move.  She had him trapped, but what Danns' a'Bhàis wanted required his cooperation.  They’d _both_ learned that in Bremen.  Merlin had given in.  So long as Rumplestiltskin did not do the same, he would never be the Dark One again.

Finally, Danns’ impatience bot the better of her.  “Why must you set yourself against me?  This game is growing tiresome.”

“Is it?” he countered, stalling for time.  Feeling her magic.  Rumplestiltskin’s tone was bone dry: “And here I thought we were just beginning to have fun.”

“Don’t.”  Hazel eyes went hard.  “I have no patience for flippancy today.   I have offered you the world, Merlin.  More than once.  Morgan is gone and you have a second chance.  Will you waste this one, too?  I thought you were smarter than that.”

“I’m certainly too smart to trust you,” he commented mildly, ignoring the fact that she still thought he was someone he could never be.  Someone he _would_ never be. 

Could he still use that?  The possessiveness in his opponent’s eyes was starting to become dangerous.  Walking that fine line was growing harder.  Sooner or later, the wheels would come off.

“You’d rather continue with this charade?” Danns wondered, and he could see the Black Fairy holding onto her temper.  Barely.  “You would prefer to pretend to be one of these humans, to play at being their ally and act as if you care about them?  You disappoint me, old friend.  I always knew you to be more assertive than this.  You’re not even leading this ill-advised fight against me.”  She smiled again, all sharp edges.  “Even you should remember that biding your time will not make my arrogant sister come crawling to you.”

The magnitude of that assumption startled a laugh out of Rumplestiltskin.  What kind of man _had_ Merlin been?  There were some things he _really_ would have liked to discuss with his predecessor.  “I don’t want your sister on my side at all. I don’t trust her any more than I trust you _._ ”

“One of us _will_ own the Heart,” she retorted.  “You know that—”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin cut her off.

“No?” Danns was startled enough to echo the word incredulously.  “Is this your lingering sentimentality making a nuisance out of itself again?  I know the boy is a descendant of Morgan’s on his mother’s side, but this really is becoming quite ridiculous.  He’s not _your_ descendant.  Morgan married your pet Arthur after you were gone, and this Truest Believer is no concern of yours.”

“He’s my grandson.”

“Rumplestiltskin’s,” she countered immediately, as if it meant nothing.

“Indeed.  _Mine._ ”  The time for that game was up.  Now was the time to shove Danns’ assumption down her throat, to throw her off balance if he could.  He could not keep the ruse up while in such constant contact with her, anyway; she had known Merlin too well.  So, it was better to slam the truth down on the table on his terms.  “I told you before, dear.  I’m not Merlin, and Henry is _my_ grandson.”

“But—” He’d never imagined her so shocked, and Rumplestiltskin smirked slightly.  Danns almost sounded like a lost little girl, broken and empty.  _She wanted her lover back, wanted the man she destroyed._ She _wanted a second chance to undo the damage she did._

“I’ve always been Rumplestiltskin, and nothing less.”  He looked her straight in the eye, gathering a touch of her bottomless magic to him while she was distracted.  It was not enough, not yet, but this was a start.  Rumplestiltskin continued coolly:  “I told you before that you destroyed Merlin far too thoroughly for him to survive.  I meant that.”

“I know his power.”  Fury filled the hazel eyes with fire, and suddenly Danns was on her feet, dark and dangerous and deadly.  She towered over him, but when Rumplestiltskin made to stand, an invisible hand of power shoved him down.  Hard.

The blow snapped his head back and took his breath away, but Rumplestiltskin still summoned up a defiant smirk.  He had no chance of fighting her hold, not with those damn bands on, but he could sequester a tiny section of her magic away for later.  Again.  This, too, was no time for weakness.  He could continue this battle with words alone; they’d always been the weapons he preferred.  Brown eyes met hazel fiercely.

“You never did know that, did you?” Rumplestiltskin taunted her around the heavy weight of magic on his chest.  “Never knew that it was Merlin who tied his power to the curse, right before you forced it into him.  You destroyed your ‘friend,’ but the _power_ passed down.”

To give Danns' a'Bhàis credit, she did not remain off balance for long.  “Clever,” she purred, her fury now under tight outward control, but whipping back and forth in her magic, beating against defenses he did not have.  “And so now Rumplestiltskin is an original power.  How…fascinating.”

Merlin’s memories knew her well enough to understand that Danns actually could appreciate being out-maneuvered, but Rumplestiltskin had too many recollections of pain at her hands to be less than wary.  She was studying him now, digesting the new information and calculating how it would affect her plans.  Did she still think as Norco had?  Did Danns believe that Rumplestiltskin could not possibly know how to handle the power he had inherited?

_Only if I’m luckier than I have been thus far today._

“No wonder you’ve chosen to work behind the scenes,” she murmured, smiling slightly as if she had figured something out.

“We all have our own methods,” he retorted, wishing he could stand and look her in the eye, but still held to the chair by her implacable power.  “I don’t have to be Merlin to fight you.”

Her hand came out, unexpectedly, to touch his cheek, fingers feather-light and gentle.  “Perhaps that is the problem,” Danns said softly.  “Or perhaps you don’t have to fight me at all.”

“I don’t have to,” Rumplestiltskin snapped, yanking away from her touch.  “I _choose_ to.”

“You should reconsider your options,” the Black Fairy told him, turning to look at Rumplestiltskin with eyes full of promises, full of desire and seduction.  _This_ was the ethereal woman who men made fools of themselves for, _this_ was the immortal personification of love and betrayal herself.  Rumplestiltskin could feel her pull, could feel the same power drawing him in the way it had so many other men at the christening.   But he had a defense against that, and the mere thought of Belle’s face was enough to distance himself from the toxic attraction.  _True Love_ was more powerful than any fairy, even this one.

“Should I now?” he managed to ask, his chest still tight and uncomfortably aware of the way Danns was focused on him.  He sensed that she found him a challenge, and that was anything but good.

“Indeed.”  Her smile offered promises, secrets, power.  How many had fallen under her thrall over the millennia?  “In fact, I will offer you the same thing I once offered Merlin, the same terms he was foolish enough to refuse.  Serve me.  Stand by my side, and together we will rule any and every realm we desire.”

The Black Fairy’s eyes met his, and Rumplestiltskin got the uneasy feeling that she was staring deep into his soul.

“Join with me,” she said softly, “and no one will harm you or your family ever again.”

For a moment, he was tempted.  His power united hers _would_ be make them unstoppable, and Rumplestiltskin would give anything to protect his family.  If giving up his freedom was the requirement to keep them safe, he would do so—not happily, and probably not gracefully, but he would do so.  He had once been willing to die to keep them safe; this was no different.  And yet— _Serve me_ , Danns' a'Bhàis had said.  She was not looking for an equal.  She was looking for a slave, and a slave could not hold his mistress to a deal.  How long would pass before she grew tired of playing along and took Henry’s heart?  She would chain him to her if he agreed, Rumplestiltskin knew, if not with the curse than with something just as thorough.  Just as powerful.

No.  He’d lived long enough with the knowledge that someone could control him via the dagger, lived long enough with a demon owning his soul.  Rumplestiltskin had learned to cherish his freedom, learned to fight for it.  So fight for it he would.  Looking the Black Fairy in the eye, he answered as calmly as he could manage, pushing aside the knowledge of the pain he knew would follow.  _Do the brave thing_.

“No.  I’ll not be anyone’s slave.  Particularly yours.”

Her eyes narrowed with anger.  Then the pain hit him, and Rumplestiltskin screamed.

 

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Chapter 42: “Ulterior Motives”, Belle and Bae reunite, Tink eavesdrops, and Rumplestiltskin tries to outthink his captor.
> 
> My questions for you this time around: 1) Do you think the Black Fairy will succeed in making Rumplestiltskin the Dark One once more? and 2) Is Regina overconfident in thinking she can overcome Jafar so easily?


	43. Ulterior Motives

**_Chapter Forty-Two—“Ulterior Motives”_ **

 

Finally, the Black Fairy lifted the spell, standing calmly and waiting for Rumplestiltskin to stop screaming.  Several moments had to pass before he could even control his breathing; his chest was heaving and dark magic was still dancing through his body, making his limbs spasm and fireworks flash across his vision.  Her magic still held him to the chair while the bronze bands kept Rumplestiltskin isolated from his own power.  Try though he did—and he desperately reached for his own magic as the Black Fairy tormented him, acting on instinct when coherent thought failed—Rumplestiltskin could not summon his powers.  He could do nothing, nothing but wait and suffer and hope she’d let this end soon.  It was devastatingly like his experiences as her prisoner, terrifyingly similar to the worst year of his life.

He hated being helpless.  It made him angry and it made him afraid, made him remember the weak spinner he’d been before becoming the Dark One, the man who couldn’t even protect his son.  And now she wanted to make him helpless again, but in a different way— _she_ wanted to take away his very ability to choose for himself, to make him into a slave and a creature of darkness.  _Her_ magic raced through him still, anchoring itself to his soul much like his curse once had, holding Rumplestiltskin still and making him vulnerable.  Defenseless.  Weak.  _Contain yourself!_   Anger was the only thing that could banish the fear, so he embraced that instead of his terror, just enough to give himself strength.

Blinking a few times finally made his vision clear, and Danns' a'Bhàis came into focus, her head cocked curiously as she watched him.  Merlin’s memories—clawing their way closer to the forefront of Rumplestiltskin’s mind as tremors shook his body—told him that she chose the oddest moments to be patient.  Unfortunately, the year he’d spent in her hands had been one of those times, as were the thirty she’d spent shaping Merlin to her will.  Now she seemed to be exercising the same meticulous patience while she waited for Rumplestiltskin to give in to her.

“Have you had enough?” she asked congenially, using the same kind of tone someone else might use to discuss the weather.

“I did before you started at that,” Rumplestiltskin rasped, again testing the magic that held him to the chair with no avail.  He could move his fingers, his toes, his head, and his neck, but nothing else.   His heart was starting to beat faster and faster, fear rising rapidly— _Do the brave thing._   He swallowed hard.

“Then perhaps you’ll contemplate being more cooperative,” Danns replied, seating herself once again, folding her hands gracefully in her lap.  “You can fight me, Rumplestiltskin, but you _know_ that doing so will get you nowhere.  I assume you have gained Merlin’s memories as well as his powers?  Else you’d not have been able to play this part so well.”

“You can blame yourself for shaking them loose.”  He would have shrugged had he been able, but he still couldn’t move.  Every nerve in his body was still aching.  “If you hadn’t tried to force the curse back into me, I’d have never remembered at all.”

“Remembered?”  She leapt on the word even though he’d not meant to use it; _remembered_ had slipped out in reference to experiences that were not his own.  The pain had to have caused that error.  Without his magic to keep them apart, his memories and Merlin’s threatened to merge again, and a smile made Danns’ face glow.

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t keep the sneer off his own face, didn’t want to stop his anger from giving him strength.  “Don’t get too hopeful, dearie.  Your precious curse preserved memories from all of my predecessors.  The oldest ones only came through after you started your work on me.”

“How fascinating.”  Her eyebrows rose, and Danns studied him again.  “ _You_ are fascinating indeed.”

“I’m glad to know I meet with your approval,” he retorted dryly, and she laughed.

“More than that.”  Again, her hand came up to touch his face, and although Rumplestiltskin tried to pull away from her, he could not move far enough.  “Why limit yourself when you could be extraordinary?  You are now an original power, Rumplestiltskin.  You are the first human to possess that power in over fifteen hundred years.  Will you waste it in years of torment when you know I will win in the end?”

“But I don’t know that.”  Rumplestiltskin met Danns’ eyes squarely.  “And neither do you.  Because your curse can’t get in if I don’t let it.  We _both_ know that.  Merlin had to let it in, and so would have I, even if I had no magic at all.”  He smiled viciously.  “All magic comes at a price, after all, and that one has to be _embraced._ ”

“Do you really think you have thirty years of fighting in you?” she countered.  “A century?  More?  I will wait however long it takes, and you, Rumplestiltskin, are no Merlin.”

Ruthlessly shoving aside his fears, Rumplestiltskin snarled: “And yet I have plenty of reasons to fight you.”

“Your family,” the Black Fairy replied with a smile.  Was that respect in her eyes, or fury?  It was damnably hard to tell.  “Your son and your grandson.  Of course.”  Her pale face tightened ominously.  “And yet it would be so simple for me to slay them, should you misbehave.”

His heart utterly missed a beat, but fury rose to drown out Rumplestiltskin’s fear.

“Harm either one of them, and there is nothing in this world that will stop me from killing you,” he said softly, the ferocity of his wrath making him cold, making his voice almost gentle.  “As you said, I’m no Merlin.  I lack his… _scruples_.””

Danns laughed.  “I have noticed that.  Poor Norco paid the price for your temper, I see.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “Norco paid the price for his own arrogance.  And you knew I’d kill him.”

“Even Merlin would have been tired of his antics, yes,” she shrugged.  “Yet I do still miss him.  He was ever so loyal—will you take his place?”

“I already told you that I’ll not be your slave, and we both know you’ll have nothing else,” he retorted, his voice still dangerously quiet.

“A willing servant is not a slave, Rumplestiltskin.  Far from it.”  But he sensed no surprise in her answer; no, he _was_ starting to earn Danns' a'Bhàis’ respect, whether he wanted it or not.  Her hand finally left his face, and she settled back in her chair to study him once more.

“It’s close enough.”

A heartbeat of silence ticked by, and then Danns nodded thoughtfully.  “A partnership, then.  Will you accept that?”

“Take these bands off, and then we’ll talk,” Rumplestiltskin replied, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh, no,” she laughed.  “Not until you agree."

But there was something in her eyes, and suddenly Rumplestiltskin realized why she’d been playing for time.  She’d threatened his family to see how he would react, not because she truly thought it necessary to gain his compliance.  No, Danns thought she could gain that without endangering others, knew him well enough to know that he could only fight for so long. She _was_ willing to wait centuries if that’s what it took, and they both knew his family would die of old age while neither of them did.  _But she doesn’t know about Belle._

That one thought swept through him like a warm wind.  The Black Fairy knew about Baelfire and about Henry, knew he was fighting on the side of Snow White and company to protect his family.  But she didn’t know about his True Love, didn’t know that even if she got the curse in him, so long as Belle was still alive, Belle could break his curse.  Because _Rumplestiltskin’s_ sacrifice had broken it the first time, there was no reason for the Black Fairy to know that he had a True Love at all, and _that_ was a secret to which he would hold tightly.  Danns probably didn’t even realize that Belle existed, that his beautiful and brave love had done one better than just own his heart—Belle had helped him hide the dagger in a way that would keep the Black Fairy from ever getting it.

“Or until you have the dagger?” he guessed, and watched the question hit home.  Rumplestiltskin had felt her attempt to summon the kris dagger, had felt her failure.  His grin was nasty.  “Not answering your call, is it?”

“Whatever you have done, it is only a matter of time before the dagger comes to me,” Danns snarled. 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

His genius Belle had stumbled upon the solution, the final way to keep the Black Fairy from putting the curse of the Dark One back into him.  The curse was _in_ the dagger, and without Circe’s dagger, Danns had no way to make Rumplestiltskin the Dark One once more.  He’d known that Danns needed the dagger to make the curse work, but it was Belle who had found the answer while reading that ratty old book (the one with terrifyingly many answers when it came to the history of what he was) again.  The kris dagger, Belle had pointed out, had been a secondary power in its own right before the Black Fairy used the dagger as the key to her curse.  Then it had belonged to _Circe,_ not Danns' a'Bhàis’; the Black Fairy had only taken it after Circe’s death.  So, the original ownership of the dagger still mattered more than the fae who had claimed it later, and Belle had been able to uncover Circe’s final resting place.

Thus, Rumplestiltskin had been able to acquire enough bone fragments belonging to that one of humanity’s original powers.  Using that, he’d fashioned a box from which even Danns' a'Bhàis’ could not summon the dagger, which he had then layered with spells and wards even he could not break.  Oh, the box would open for _him_ —Rumplestiltskin as no fool and needed to be able to access the dagger—but short of finding a way to force Rumplestiltskin to open it (and tell her where it was located), Danns could not reach the dagger.  No matter how much power she used, it would not answer her call.

Frustration was evident on her face.  “What have you done?”

“Preserved my freedom,” Rumplestiltskin answered, plucking a bit of magic off the rapid power surrounding her emphatic summoning and storing it away.

“No.”  Abruptly, the reaching magic stopped and turned towards him, hovering just inches above Rumplestiltskin and _building_.  The enormous strength and breadth of the power took his breath away, and all he could do was watch and wait as the Black Fairy continued, fury lacing into every word: “All you have done is force my hand.  I assure you, you will regret that.”

“I doubt—” The power crashed down before Rumplestiltskin could finish the sentence, power and pain and _unraveling_ —

Time spiraled backwards within his body, racing back to the point where his own magic, the then-unfamiliar power, had ripped out and healed him, saving Rumplestiltskin when he had no idea he could save himself.  Danns’ magic found that point and _pushed_ , carving it out and away from everything else until that moment in time stood alone and isolated.  Then and only then did the spell attack, picking apart the healing that had been accomplished by brute strength and power alone.  Her spell found the right thread and _pulled_ while Rumplestiltskin watched helplessly, his magic still chained away from his reach.  Had he been able to adequately heal himself, to do so with skill instead of power, the disassembly of the healing would never have been possible, but Rumplestiltskin had never bothered to go back and redo the process.  Instead, he’d let his magic have its way.

And now he paid the price.  Bones re-broke.  Wounds re-opened.  And familiar agony tore through his body as he threw his head back and screamed.

 

****************

 

Regina was in Wonderland, and Rumplestiltskin was missing.  The fae, of course, knew that the sorcerer who had inherited Merlin’s powers was out of the way, and although Norco and Titania were both dead (at his hands, no less), plenty of powerful fae remained.  And while the Black Fairy was distracted by her newest project—stubborn and hard-headed as he was, Rumplestiltskin took up plenty of her time—the other fae took advantage of the situation.  Vidia immediately headed to visit King Francis and remind him of where his allegiance _should_ lie; a well-placed threat towards his pregnant daughter-in-law made the king surprisingly tractable, particularly with his eldest son and heir outside the kingdom.  Nuckelavee, however, chose to start terrorizing towns and hunting fairies.  He _would_ have successfully trapped Tinker Bell if the fae’s newest member had not snuck a timely warning to her, and even then he managed to kill the Orange, Magenta, and Yellow Fairies in the span of two days.

Maleficent did nothing to stop him, of course.  She was sufficiently cold blooded to watch fairies die, and besides, those three were not particularly huge loses to the world as a whole.  Nor did she fail to take part in the massacre at Courierre, either.  Maleficent had killed plenty of innocents in her life, and she knew that this was a test.  If she hesitated for even a moment, Nuckelavee would kill her, so Maleficent killed with as much relish as the others and embraced her darker urges all over again.

Being bad was easier than being good, she’d found out centuries earlier.  At least now she was doing it for a reason, acting, ironically, for the _greater good_ , as her nauseating former mentor would have called it.  But Blue still didn’t have the stomach to do what had to be done, whereas Maleficent _did_.  And she would.  Without blinking, without flinching, and without shying away from necessity.

She did manage, however, to send a note to Tink.  Someone had to.

 

****************

Tink delivered news of Rumplestiltskin’s capture just hours before Snow, Belle, Ruby, and Grumpy returned to the Charmings’ castle.  By then, six days had passed since Norco’s trap had been sprung, and Bae had no idea what was happening to his father.  Throat tight, he headed out to greet the returning rescue party along with everyone else, standing with Emma, Henry, and David.  He tried not to pace while they waited in the crowded courtyard—apparently everyone who was anyone wanted to greet their queen, probably just to remind themselves of how important they were—but not showing how worried he was turned out to be very hard.

There had been a time, not too long ago, when Bae would have been far less concerned.  Once, he would have shrugged and assumed that his father was indestructible, too good at self-preservation to worry over.  Yet that had been before Rumplestiltskin had almost killed himself to save those he loved.  Before Rumplestiltskin had broken his own curse…and become so much more like the man he had been before becoming the Dark One.  Oh, neither of them were what they’d been before—Bae certainly wasn’t a starry-eyed innocent kid after his centuries in Neverland—but their relationship had mended.  And now Bae found himself worrying over the fate of his again-human father, remembering the few hints Rumplestiltskin had let slip concerning how the Black Fairy had treated him last time, and the couple of more gruesome details Belle had occasionally volunteered.

Clearly, Belle’s mind worked along the same lines, because she looked haggard and worn when she dismounted from a light chestnut mare.  Had she slept at all since it had happened?  The dark circles under her blue eyes hinted that she hadn’t.  Looking at her made Bae swallow hard; she knew much more than she did, and if Belle was _this_ worried…

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward to greet her as David, Henry, and Emma surrounded Snow with smiles.  He hadn’t told Henry yet that his grandfather was a prisoner, again.  Bae wasn’t sure how to do that, not when Henry was as happy as he’d been lately.

“Hi,” Belle replied softly.  A groom took the horse’s reins from her, and Belle looked around blankly, obviously not wanting to be there and a little bit lost.

Technically, she wasn’t a member of Bae’s family, and he knew that there were some at this court who would frown to see a lowborn knight embracing a lord’s daughter, but Bae didn’t care.  So he wrapped his arms around the woman who would be his stepmother as soon as his father managed to ask her, and felt Belle shudder against him.  She had friends here, but no real family—no one except Bae.  And he wouldn’t let her face this alone.

“He’ll be okay,” Bae told her, willing himself to believe it.  “Papa’s tough.”

He hadn’t always been, at least on the surface, but somehow magic had amplified the strength that Bae had always known was at his father’s core.  And Belle had.  Bae knew how she’d helped his father over the years, knew what she meant to Rumplestiltskin.

“Not always as much as he wants people to believe,” she whispered into his chest.  “I’m worried about him, Bae.”

Those soft words made him swallow.  Bae didn’t know nearly enough about how the Black Fairy had tortured his father last time, but he _had_ read the message Tink had delivered.  “Me, too,” he admitted, and then pulled back a little.  “But there is some news.  Tink…well, Tink got word from _someone_ inside the fae’s, uh, homeland.”

“She did?” Belle asked, looking up at him, and Bae nodded.

“Yeah.  She was here just a few hours ago, and gave me this.”  He extended the folded note to Belle; it was in Tink’s handwriting, but Bae had known the green fairy too long to think that the note originated with her. 

_Rumplestiltskin is in fae territory,_ the note said, clearly copied from someone else’s message.  _Do not send anyone after him.  They will not survive.  I will do what I can, but it will not be soon.  The Black Fairy holds him._

“It’s happening again,” Belle whispered, and Bae squeezed with the arm that was still around her.  He felt the same emptiness she did, the same gut-wrenching worry, but they had to go on.

Tink had been so adamant that he listen to the note, which was why she’d given it to him, Tink had said to Bae.  And he had to trust her.  Tink had been one of the few true friends Bae had made in Neverland, and the only one who had come to hate Pan as much as he did.  There had been many long years when she had been the only person in all of Neverland that Bae could trust, and she’d helped him hide from his evil grandfather on more than one occasion.  Tink had earned Bae’s trust, time and again.  Despite that, he knew that Belle was going to propose a rescue mission, one he couldn’t let her go on.  _Someone_ had to keep her safe while his father was gone, and Bae knew that someone was him. 

Not that Bae was stupid enough to try to tell Belle he wanted to protect her.  He knew her well enough to know how well that wouldn’t go over, so instead he took refuge in logic.

“We can’t just rush in.  Tink said—” he started, only to have Belle cut him off.

“He left this behind.  Your father.”  Now it was her turn to hand Bae a note, although this one was even shorter and on just a scrap of parchment.  The handwriting on it was only a little familiar; when Bae had been a child, Rumplestiltskin’s handwriting had not been so neat, small, or precise, but Bae still recognized it as his father’s.

_Belle—I am so sorry that I must allow this to happen.  I will see you again, and sooner than you think.  I promise.  I love you—R._

Well.  Wasn’t that both annoying and encouraging.  His father’s ability to see into the future was still one Bae was getting used to—he hadn’t had it before Bae had gone through to the Land Without Magic and it hadn’t really worked in Storybrooke.  In this case, however, at least it appeared to be of _some_ use.  Unless, of course, Rumplestiltskin was telling a white lie to make Belle worry less.  But he had said that he had to _allow_ that to happen.  _That_ meant he was working some sort of angle, and although Bae could have cheerfully strangled his father for doing something like this, he supposed it was better than the alternative. 

_Working an angle means that Papa thinks he has a way out.  That’s got to be better than nothing,_ he thought.  Hoped.

“There are times I really want to kill him,” Bae told Belle, knowing she’d understand.

The crooked grin he accompanied that remark with finally made her smile wanly.  “Yeah.  Me, too.”

“So.  What do you want to do?”

Belle took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, stepping out of Bae’s embrace and suddenly looking normal, if tired, once more.  She really was amazingly strong, and Bae could see how his father had fallen in love with her.  “I’m going back to the Dark Castle,” she said firmly.  “Because that’s where he’ll go, and I won’t make him face…whatever happens alone.”

“I’ll go with you,” he volunteered without pausing to think.  But it was the right thing to do.

“It’s a bit of a walk from here,” Belle warned him.

“Pssh.  I’ll get Emma to drop us there,” Bae replied with another crooked smile.  He wasn’t always sure how to define his relationship with Emma, but he knew that she’d help if he asked her to.

“Get Emma to what?” the mother of his child echoed unexpectedly, making Bae jump in surprise.  He’d figured that she would be busy with her mother, not approaching with Henry at her side.  Emma’s sudden appearance made Bae shrug with embarrassment.

“Give us a lift to the Dark Castle?” he asked hopefully, turning the smile on her. 

Emma tossed Bae an exasperated look, and then clearly caught sight of the expression on Belle’s face.  “I’ll help,” she promised.  “My mom told me what happened.”

“Can I come, too?” Henry asked suddenly, looking between his parents with a grin.  “Then we can stay for a bit.  Keep Belle company.”

Despite everything that had happened, there was still a beautiful innocence in Henry, and Bae saw Belle’s smile soften when Henry volunteered.  Watching that made Bae exchange a glance with Emma—Henry really was the glue that held their very odd family together, and troublesome though that could be at times, it was also wonderful. 

“It sounds good to me,” he told his son. “But you need to ask your mother.”

“I guess it’s better than you wanting to slay dragons,” Emma replied drily.  “Sure, kid.  Go pack.”

 

****************

 

Not for the first time, Tink realized that she would have preferred to spy on the fae than try to work with her old ‘sister’ fairies.  Maleficent, she decided, had definitely gotten the better end of the deal.  _She_ got to voice her ages-old hatred for Blue, and doing so was even part of her cover.  Whereas Tink had to try to play nicely with Blue and the others, all because the Grand Alliance _needed_ the fairies’ help.  And the fairies needed the Grand Alliance (and Rumplestiltskin’s much looser group of power-wielders), whether Blue wanted to admit it or not.  Her sisters were dying in droves, and while there had once been thousands of fairies—many of which were officially retired and only called upon in hours of great need—their numbers were dwindling.  Fast.

So here she was, yet again there to try to make Blue see sense and re-ally with those she had once helped so much.  Of course, Blue had always liked Snow, and claimed that she would happily ally with the Queen and her husband provided Snow was willing to ‘see reason’…but that meant giving up the one thing that Tink knew Snow would never give.  By now, she was fairly certain that _Blue_ knew that Snow wasn’t going to give up her own grandson’s heart, which meant that the senior fairy was now just being stubborn.  Or saving face.  Why was it that the more powerful someone got, the more likely they were to make a stand out of pride alone?  It made Tink want to scream.

And of course, just when she’d come to talk to Blue, she found the senior most fairy talking to the _next_ most likely fairy to stand on ceremony just because she could. Cyan was almost a lock to say anything to make herself sound better, and of course, she hated Tink.  Along with anything that wasn’t pure and absolutely fairy.  Everything (and everyone) else seemed to be beneath her notice, particularly these days.

“…might be for the best,” Cyan was saying.  She hadn’t seen Tink yet, and although it was rude to eavesdrop, Tink figured she might listen for a moment before interrupting.  Perhaps Blue and Cyan would finish talking, and she’d get a chance to speak to Blue without Cyan’s annoying presence.

“I agree,” Blue nodded.  “Now that Rumplestiltskin is out of the way, Snow and David will undoubtedly be more reasonable.  Particularly with the Evil Queen out of the way in Wonderland.  They’ll have no one to turn to but us, now.”

“And thus we can bring things back to where they should be,” Cyan opinioned, her voice haughty.  But Blue didn’t reprimand her, which made Tink’s heart plummet.  Were they _really_ that short sighted?

But of course they were.  Blue _still_ thought she had to have Henry’s heart to beat the Black Fairy, assuming that whatever plan she had for getting the Heart into the Black Fairy’s chest would work and everything would go back to the way it ‘should’ be.  Tink wasn’t such a fool, and she really wished that Blue wasn’t so narrow minded that she refused to look at her other options.  The worst part was that Blue wassmarter than this.  But it wasn’t the first time Tink had seen someone get so dialed into their own master plan that they refused to contemplate anything going wrong.  Blue was clearly suffering from a huge set of blinkers where the current war was concerned, and nothing that had happened seemed able to shake her out of her assumptions.   _The world has changed, but she’s stuck playing the same old game because it’s the only game she knows._

“Indeed,” Blue agreed.  Obviously, she hadn’t seen Tink, either, otherwise she never would have gone on: “I know this sounds horrible, but if we are fortunate, my sister will turn Rumplestiltskin into the Dark One once more.  Then he will be controllable.”

“But controllable by _whom_?” Cyan sounded understandably shocked.

Tink could hear the grimace in Blue’s response.  “That is the problem, of course.  We would have to simply endure her control over him until we can get the Heart into Danns’ chest.  After that, we would have to entrust the dagger to someone worthy.”

“I can think of several people,” Cyan said immediately.

“As can I.”

Tinker Bell blinked.  Hard.  Was Blue actually _serious?_  Tink didn’t know Rumplestiltskin all that well, and had hardly known him at all before his curse was broken, but what kind of idiot wanted to wish the world’s darkest curse _back_ into a person?  Never mind what it would do to Rumplestiltskin—the world plain didn’t need a Dark One again.  Did Blue really think it was okay just because she’d find someone to control him?  Rumplestiltskin was far too wily for that; he’d get the dagger back, and then all hell would break loose.  And that didn’t even take into account what the Black Fairy might use him for while he was under her control.  Cyan seemed to echo a few of her thoughts...but not enough, saying:

“As much as the Dark One is an evil that I wish the world could do without, having Rumplestiltskin as such is certainly preferable to him being an original power,” the other fairy remarked.

“Undoubtedly.  _I_ will deal with my sister.  The world is not ready for more than one original power at any one time.  I will not tolerate his having Merlin’s power any longer than necessary.  If he escapes Danns, we must stop him.”

“Can you kill him, or must the curse be reintroduced?”

“Original powers can be killed,” Blue replied, suddenly serene again.  “It is only a matter of knowing how.”

Tink had heard enough.  For a moment, she thought of just vanishing—it was obvious that Blue wasn’t going to be open to reason, which meant her entire mission there was pointless—but then she decided not to.  Hearing what Blue had to say would be interesting, if nothing else.  And she might learn something from what Blue _didn’t_ say, too.  So she flew a foot or so into the air and landed nosily, pasting on a smile.

“Hello, Blue,” Tink greeted the senior fairy with a somewhat respectful nod, and scowled at her companion.  “Cyan.”

“Tinker Bell,” the elder fairy greeted her, suddenly wearing a maternal smile.  “What brings you home?”

“I’m here at Snow’s request.”  Well, she was actually there at _David’s_ request, but the two of them did work as a unit, and Blue had always liked Snow better, so it was far smarter to put Snow’s name on things.  “The Grand Alliance is…faltering.  Apparently, the Black Fairy has started making deals with some kings, and blackmailing others, to bring them to her side.  Snow and David think it would really help matters if the fairies could come openly onto the side of the Grand Alliance.  After all, we all do want the same thing.”

Blue sighed.  “I do wish we could, Tinker Bell.”  Had the manipulative fairy ever _not_ called her by her chosen name when she wanted something out of her?  When Blue was angry, Tink was ‘Green.’  But when Blue wanted something… “But I’m afraid it’s not that simple.  Not yet.”

“Not yet?” Tink echoed, pretending she had no idea what Blue was waiting on.  The former mother superior only nodded.

“Events are in motion that may well change everything.  Soon, we may be free to help Snow and her allies openly.”

“Soon isn’t going to help the people the fae have captured or killed,” Tink replied bluntly.  “Or the fairies.”

“I know, and I wish it were not the case.  However, sacrifices must be made in times of war.  You know that.”

She felt her scowl deepen.  “Better than most.”

If Blue understood what Tink was implying, that _Blue_ didn’t know jack about war or about personal sacrifice, she gave no sign.  She simply nodded and continued:

“Tell Snow not to give up hope.  Even the merest belief in victory can be enough to turn the tide of battle.  Hope is not lost.”

“Not while we’re fighting, it isn’t, no.  It’s too bad that you are just hiding here.”  Tink couldn’t help herself.  She’d thought better of Blue, had thought that Blue had chosen to _help_ instead of sit here.  After all, Blue had saved Regina.  Why did she now insist on retreating and trying the same old tactics again?

“You can come home, Green,” Cyan put in abruptly, her eyes sharp.

“Not while my friends are in danger, I can’t,” she shot back.

“Your friends are here.”

“No, my friends are out there,” Tink replied, flinging a hand out to indicate the rest of the world, the _real_ world.  The world Blue had banished her to for trying to help someone lonely find love.  _Her_ world.  “And I’m not going to abandon them.”  She looked back at Blue.  “Will you not help us?”

“Soon.  Soon we will be free to act.  Until then, you must tell Snow to remain strong.  I know she can.”

“Of course.”  No, she really wasn’t going to get anywhere with this conversation, so Tink said her farewells to the other two fairies and headed back towards the Charmings’ castle.  At least she had learned something useful, even if it wasn’t something Blue wanted her to know.  Unfortunately, what good that knowledge would do was yet to be determined; Tink had spoken so briefly to Maleficent and knew that the others could not get to where Rumplestiltskin was being held.  She also knew that Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t want Maleficent breaking her cover just to save him—not when Maleficent was poised to enter the fae’s higher ranks.  No, they had to do something, but what?

Tink wasn’t sure yet, but she _did_ know that she’d rather fight a hopeless battle than sit calmly on her hands and mouth useless platitudes about hope.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the feedback! Stay tuned for Chapter 43: “The Brave Thing”, in which Jafar and Regina finally come to (magical) blows, Rumplestiltskin and the Black Fairy have a heart to heart, and Belle & company return to the Dark Castle
> 
> In the meantime, what angle do you think Rumplestiltskin is planning, and how far do you think Blue will go to keep him out of the way if Danns’ plan fails? For that matter, who are these “trustworthy” people Blue would give the dagger to?


	44. The Brave Thing

**_Chapter Forty-Three—“The Brave Thing”_ **

 

They were a day out from the Rabbit’s house when Jafar tried to escape, and boy was Regina glad for it.  She had been waiting for him to make his move, just _waiting_ for him to do something stupid.  Trudging across Wonderland for an entire week had been so utterly tedious without Jafar trying to do anything more than run his mouth and seduce her (although she’d had a bit of fun making a show of kissing Robin the third time he’d tried the seduction act).  Still, the walk towards the White Rabbit’s abode had just about killed Regina with boredom.  When she’d agreed to come here, Regina had imagined death, chaos, and danger…not endless marches across increasingly psychedelic landscapes.

_Now_ , however, things were finally getting interesting.  Jafar was indeed powerful, and the spell he sent flying at her back would have disabled a less practiced sorceress.  But Regina wasn’t the type to turn her back on someone like Jafar without having a trick or two up her sleeve.  Subtlety might not have been her strong suit, but she wasn’t a fool.  So she was ready, and _her_ attack sent Jafar reeling backwards.

She didn’t bother to call him to his lamp or to use a wish.  No, she didn’t need to.  Instead, she turned on him with her hands raised and an evil grin on her face, ready to go to war.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Regina demanded.

Jafar’s handsome face twisted up in a snarl as Will and Robin hurriedly dodged out of the way.  “Hardly.”

“Shall I shoot him, my love?” Robin asked casually, bow already in hand.

“No,” Regina replied before Jafar could act against the outlaw.  “This little fight should alleviate the boredom a bit.”

“A bit?” Jafar echoed, raising an eyebrow.  The man _did_ have style; she had to give him that.  “I do think you’re underestimating me, Your Majesty.”

“I doubt that,” she shot back.

“Then I shall have to prove you wrong,” the sorcerer retorted, and power started to fly.

Jafar started with a tricky spell, one designed to trap Regina in stasis and take the lamp from her.  She wasn’t sure if a genie _could_ possess their own lamp, of if he was just being overly optimistic, but Jafar clearly thought that he’d figured out some sort of trick that would gain him his freedom.  The magic zeroed in on Regina in swirls of dark red that disguised the nasty darkness at its core, and Jafar had clearly been saving this spell for the ‘perfect’ moment.  How long had he been working on it, waiting for her guard to go down?  _Not long enough!_

Regina hated picking apart spells, hated using finesse when raw power would do.  She probably _could_ have found the multiple threads that needed to be pulled in order to disassemble the complicated spell the genie had thrown her way, but she didn’t bother.  Oh, she was a little impressed that Jafar had somehow gotten around the restrictions of his curse in order to cast something so crafty, but Regina certainly wasn’t so awe-struck that she wasn’t going to smash the genie into goo.  So, she slammed her own power into Jafar’s, focusing on her anger at his attempt to trap her and her frustration over still being stuck in Wonderland.  Those emotions created a wave of darkness that ripped Jafar’s carefully constructed spell apart,

“Is that finally your best, or do I have to wait longer?” she challenged the genie, grinning at her opponent.  Jafar was _finally_ proving himself to be an interesting adversary, and it was about damn time!  Until now, he’d been about as entertaining as Sidney during the worst of his lovesick days, full of questions and not much else.  Dull.  Boring.   _Predictable._

Jafar laughed.  “I’m only getting started.”

“Good!  I was beginning to think that being turned into a genie also turned you into a doormat,” Regina taunted him.

“Oh, I’m nothing of the sort, I assure you,” he replied, and Regina felt the next tricky spell—or set of spells—starting to build.  They rose out of the very ground underneath her feet, but her grin stayed in place.  She’d always enjoyed a good challenge, and battling Jafar would certainly be more fun than the rest of their trek through this miserable little world had been.

She let the next attack come and powered her way through that, too, leaving a shower of magic to rain down upon Jafar.  The sorcerer-turned-genie yelped and jumped aside; apparently, he either couldn’t teleport or couldn’t manage it now that he was a genie, because he had to physically dodge.  As he caught his balance, Regina followed her defense up with a first attack of her own, sending a wave of power racing towards Jafar’s chest.  He tried to bat the purple spark of magic aside with a shield, but it split into four pieces with a twitch of her fingers, and the smaller sparks each targeted one of his limbs.  The sparks struck, sending sharp needles of pain through his nerves and paralyzing him—

Or at least Jafar _should_ have been paralyzed.  He threw Regina’s attack aside far more quickly than she’d anticipated, following that up with another pair of spells designed to turn the Evil Queen into a rat.

“A rat?” Regina laughed incredulously, rolling her eyes theatrically.  “Is that the most creative spell you’ve got?”

“I thought it fitting.  It was either that or carrier pigeon,” Jafar retorted with a sly smile, batting aside the ball of power she’d retaliated with.  Jafar hadn’t bothered to destroy it, just let the glowing purple ball fly into a pair of nearby trees.  Of course, the trees immediately started burning.

“Oi!” Will shouted.  “Mind the forest fires, you two.”

Jafar chuckled dangerously, but Regina just sighed in annoyance.  Robin was already shooting her a pleading look, so she waved a hand and made a rain cloud appear over the pair of burning pines, drowning the fire before it could spread.  After all, she didn’t really want to continue this duel in the middle of a forest fire, and even if she did, she didn’t need it spreading and adding even more evil to her reputation.  That action, rather predictably, made her opponent raise an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know that the resume of Evil Queens included putting out forest fires,” he purred, his dark eyes curious.

Regina shrugged.  “So, I’m a little bit reformed.  I prefer to kill people on purpose, and not by accident, these days.”

“Oh, _do_ you now?  I’d love to hear _that_ story.”

“I bet you would.”

But Regina didn’t wait for Jafar to ask another question, and she certainly wasn’t about to share her life story.  Instead, she hit him with a wall of fire of her own, wrapping Jafar in a raging inferno until he quashed the flames with a surge of his own power coupled with a clever dismantling of her spell.  He was good, damn good, but Regina was better.  She laughed.

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m _too_ reformed, dear.  I’m still plenty evil to defeat you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of making such an assumption.”

His next attack was a variant of her wall of fire, turning it into a vortex that tried to engulf Regina and sweep her away like a bastardized tornado.  She barely managed to dodge it in time, and the ends of her dress were caught up in the flames.  That meant Regina had to spare a moment to salvage the hem before it started to smolder, which made her scowl.  “This is one of my favorite dresses!” she snarled.

“So sorry,” he replied immediately, barely stopping her next attack, which actually shoved Jafar back several feet, his heels kicking up mud as he skidded, hands up to stop her spell.  Jafar was starting to sweat, just a little.

“Liar,” she shot back, and he grinned.

“A gentlemen never lies to a lady.  Particularly to a queen.”

“Then you’re clearly no gentlemen.”

Jafar shrugged.  “Sorcerers rarely are.”

The next attack was one he’d clearly been building in the background, crafty and powerful and designed to fog up Regina’s brain.  That was subtle and smart; if he could slow her reaction time down, affect her mind, he could bog her down and maybe even get the lamp.  But just because Regina disliked unweaving spells didn’t mean she _couldn’t_ , so she found the necessary thread just like her old mentor had taught her.  One tug later, Jafar’s spell collapsed to the ground between them, golden and dirty looking, shimmering there like a drunk snake.  But it came back almost immediately, twice as strong and three times as tricky, so Regina quashed _that_ with a giant fist of power as she yanked the necessary threads one last time.

She was still angry enough—even if she was having a blast reveling in that fury—that the magic required little effort, but she could see his spells starting to take a toll on Jafar.  His handsome face was pinched with exhaustion, and no wonder; he probably had to fight off his genie’s curse in order to act like a sorcerer at all.  Regina, however, had no such handicaps, and she was certainly perceptive enough to notice when Jafar’s eyes slid towards Robin.  Immediately, she knew what he was about to do.

He was a villain, after all.  Regina knew how Jafar thought.  She’d been a villain for most of her formative years, and no evil sorcerer worth the name would fail to notice when their opponent’s True Love was standing nearby, defenseless save for a bow.

Almost without thought, Regina’s hands came up, white light filling her palms as her love for Robin overrode her fury and her darkness.  She whipped that magic forward, barely bothering to craft her love into a spell, just directing it at Jafar before the sorcerer could reach out and pull Robin towards him.  The magic barely made it there in time, but it _did_ , striking Jafar full in the chest and throwing him backwards into the same pair of trees that had been burning earlier.  He hit hard, grunting painfully and trying to pull himself away from the trees, but Regina’s magic held him tightly, pinning Jafar against the larger of the two trees no matter how hard he fought.  His own power beat uselessly against hers like a child throwing a tantrum, but to no avail.

Regina had never bothered to banish the storm cloud she’d sent over to the burning trees, and magic was a bit odd in Wonderland, so rain started pelting down on Jafar’s face, turning the sorcerer’s expression supremely disgruntled and very soggy.  Will snorted out a laugh as Jafar gave up fighting, but Regina just stepped in close.  The rain, of course, didn’t touch her.

“If you ever even _think_ about threatening any of us again, you’ll be living for centuries in that lamp,” she snarled.

“Will I?” he countered, the expression in his eyes far from defeated.  “I thought you had a new _owner_ to deliver me to, like a good little delivery girl.”

 Regina grinned nastily, not at all put out by the insult.  If Jafar had given in, it would have been much less fun.  And she wouldn’t have respected him at all.  “Believe me, I’m getting the better end of this bargain.  Rumplestiltskin’s going to owe me a favor, and _you_ get to stay in the Dark Castle.”

There.  She’d dropped the bomb and watched Jafar’s mouth gape open in response.  No, he hadn’t expected that at all, had he?  And that was why Regina had waited so long to tell him.  Now Jafar knew that he couldn’t defeat her, not even if she didn’t bother to use his lamp, and now he knew where he was going once they reached the Enchanted Forest.  It had been worth the wait—Jafar’s expression was _priceless_.

“What would the Dark One want with a genie?” he asked, obviously trying to hide his nervousness.  And failing.

Regina smiled mysteriously.  “I didn’t ask.”

No need to tell Jafar that Rumplestiltskin had told her what he wanted of Jafar without her having to ask.  No need to tell Jafar that Rumplestiltskin was no longer the Dark One, either; truth be told, Rumple was a great deal _more_ dangerous these days, even if he was trying to be nicer (in the same way Regina was, complete with sharp edges and no small amount of temper. Neither of them would ever be purely _good_ , and Regina was quite content with that, thank you very much).  No, she’d let Jafar find out for himself and fret in the meantime.  That was much more fun.

 

****************

 

He was starting to have trouble telling time again.

After the year he’d spent in Danns' a'Bhàis’ hands, Rumplestiltskin had become no stranger to pain.  He’d never like it, and pain would always frighten him on an intensely deep and personal level, but three centuries of dangerous living had taught him to deal with his fears—provided he had the power to fight back.  Reminding himself that he _wasn’t_ powerless now was hard; the bronze bands continued digging into his neck, wrists, and ankles, isolating him from his magic and keeping Rumplestiltskin from fighting back.  For someone who had become defined by the power he could wield, not being able to touch it was both crippling and terrifying, but he managed to fight back the urge to panic. Usually.

As best he could tell, something around a week had passed since he’d fallen into the Black Fairy’s trap and been deposited into this windowless, door-less, and utterly empty room.  But it might have been longer.  There was a constant amount of light in the room, not too bright and not too dark, with no indications at all of when it was night or day outside.  Truthfully, Rumplestiltskin didn’t even know if time passed normally inside the fae’s realms, or if he might be somewhere where an hour inside equaled a minute outside.  Or a year.  Perhaps only hours had passed for Belle since he’d been caught.  He had no way to know, and _that_ worried him more than anything else.  Last time, his family had already thought him dead and Rumplestiltskin had not been concerned that Belle or Bae might try to come after him.  Now—surprisingly—he was confident enough in their love to know that they would want to rescue him, and terrified that they would wind up hurt because of it.

He had to act soon.  Rumplestiltskin _could_ mark time by Danns’ visits, and she came like clockwork, twice, he thought, per day. One of the female fae who had tortured him in Bremen appeared between Danns’ visits, and now he had a name to put with her face: Jhudora.  She was every bit as vicious as she had been before, although the fae now seemed inclined to use magic to cause (and recreate) pain rather than more mundane tools of torture, hammering him with pure darkness and other spells to try to break him down.  It was a change in tactics that Rumplestiltskin hardly appreciated; either way, he was left drifting and dumb, his mind sluggish and everything hurting.

But he was still gathering magic, more from Jhudora than from Danns, because the younger fae was more careless than her queen.  And now he almost had enough.

“Up,” a voice commanded, and magic yanked Rumplestiltskin to his feet before he had a chance to realize that Danns was even in the room.

Swaying drunkenly, he caught himself on the wall as his boots made contact with the floor, wheezing for air.  Breathing was hard; he had a few cracked ribs and definitely some internal bleeding, not to mention the wounds that Danns’ spell of reversal had reopened under his clothing.  But _his_ power—not the bands, Rumplestiltskin suddenly realized—kept him alive, mitigating the worst of the damage to support him, which meant he could stand.  Barely.  Leaning on the wall made it easier, and without that support, Rumplestiltskin was fairly certain he would have collapsed.  The room was already spinning.

“Can’t even bother to say hello, first?”  he panted, just to have something to say.  Dark magic still raced through him, though not as intrusively agonizing as when Danns turned the pressure up; this was just the dregs of the last bout.  And this, Rumplestiltskin sensed, was only her starting point.

Perhaps she was short on talented and motivated torturers with Norco dead.  In that case, Rumplestiltskin had done himself a favor.

“Then hello,” Danns smiled.  His defiance seemed to amuse her these days, but then they were having all kinds of interesting conversations between the sessions of pain.  “Have you decided, yet?”

“Decided what?” he rasped, yet again.  There was a formula to their conversations, a circle they always wound up completing. 

“If you’ll join me, of course.”

That was different.  She’d asked for _service_ previously, wanted him willingly committed to her cause or as her slave, the Dark One.  A part of Rumplestiltskin, the poor spinner who was so used to being bullied and was ready to grasp any way out of a bad situation, wanted to leap on that option, wanted to take the deal she was offering just to spare himself pain.  But no.  He didn’t _need_ to do that; he’d almost gathered enough magic, now, and did not have much longer to wait.  Was he Merlin, to withstand thirty years of agony?  Of course not.  But he was Rumplestiltskin, so he did not _have_ to.  He had his loophole and would exploit it.  Soon enough, he would make his own way out of this terrible place, and never again would he allow himself to be put in a situation like this.

“My answer to that won’t change, dear,” he replied softly, meeting the Black Fairy’s gaze squarely.  Was that regret in her hazel eyes?  “I’m no Merlin, to worship the ground you walk on.”

With her long silver dress sweeping around her, Danns stepped close to him, reaching up to touch his cheek, her fingers feather-light.  “Yet we could be such good friends,” she countered softly.  “I know you have no love for my sister, for her ‘perfect’ world.  Why not stand with me in all ways that matter?”

She was lonely, Rumplestiltskin suddenly realized.  Lonely enough to offer him something like equality, which she’d never done before.  Danns' a'Bhàis had destroyed and enslaved her best friend, and she now wanted someone to take his place.  A part of Rumplestiltskin actually felt pity for her; he knew the aching loneliness inside of her, knew what it was to look across centuries alone and with an empty heart.  She had regretted her actions, much too late to change anything, and the centuries since Merlin had died had not been kind to Danns’ soul.  Then Rumplestiltskin had inherited Merlin’s powers, and now Danns hoped he would take on the mantle of something more…personal.

“Your methods leave something to be desired if you’re aiming for my friendship,” he retorted, wondering how far she would go.

“And your attitude is remarkably unrepentant if you wish to earn mine,” Danns snapped back.

Ah.  Lonely, yes, but not reckless.  Nor stupid.  He’d not be able to manipulate her into healing him, much though Rumplestiltskin had momentarily hoped that he could.  If she’d been willing to do so, perhaps as a sign of good faith, he might have tried to play upon her loneliness, but Rumplestiltskin had a feeling that doing so would be akin to playing with fire.  If he toyed with her emotions (any more than he already had in allowing her to assume he was Merlin), Danns was likely to lash out.  Killing an original power was damnably hard, but his family had no such protection.  She knew about Henry, now, and by extension she knew about Baelfire.  If she’d noticed who called him to destroy Norco, she might even know about Belle, might know that he loved someone, even if she had no idea it was True Love—and never would, not if Rumplestiltskin could prevent it.  Yet he would not endanger his family just to play with the Black Fairy.

Rumplestiltskin pulled away from the hand on his cheek, staggering weakly when he did so.  Everything hurt, and he could feel magic still working under his skin like red hot needles.  Still, he managed a smile, hard-edged and nasty.  “I’m not a terribly repentant person, I’m afraid.”

“I did gather that about you.”  Strangely enough, Danns sounded more pleased than not, but her eyes remained hard.  “So tell me, Rumplestiltskin.  What kind of man are you?  You say you’re no Merlin, but what are you?”

_Tricky.  Bitter.  Loved by people far better than I will ever be, and somehow no longer completely evil,_ Rumplestiltskin didn’t say.  He was a boy who had been abandoned and a father who had chosen power over his beloved son, only to spend three centuries trying to make up for that horrid mistake.  He was a man who had embraced the darkest of evils to save that same son, and who had somehow come out the other side with something of a soul to call his own.  He was the Dark One who had broken his own curse to save those he loved, and who had thought he would die doing so.  He’d never be a saint, and he would probably never have enough regrets to satisfy Belle’s conscience, but Rumplestiltskin was a slightly better man that the curse had made him, and that had to count for something.

Particularly here.

“It’s not _what_ I am that should worry you, dear,” he murmured, letting his eyes hint at truths yet to be uncovered.  “You already know that.  It’s _who_ I am that you should be concerned with.”

“And who is that?” Danns purred, reaching out to touch his face again and laughing softly when he almost fell in his effort to pull away once more. 

“Rumplestiltskin, of course,” he replied, and was rewarded by the way her lips twitched angrily. 

Then her hand suddenly moved downwards to wrap around his throat, and before Rumplestiltskin could even think to pull away or push her back, darkness and pain tore into him.  Screaming in surprise as much as agony, he was distantly aware of the way his body convulsed, his shoulders bouncing hard off the wood paneled wall behind him.  Rumplestiltskin’s vision went white then gray and then white again, blood red stars exploding in front of his eyes.  But Danns was far stronger than her slender figure would suggest, and she held him up, pressing him back against the wall and forcing Rumplestiltskin to stay on his feet.  He choked helplessly, flailing and reaching desperately for magic he could not touch.  Every instinct Rumplestiltskin had told him to attack Danns, but his power would not answer his call.  Could not.

Several agonizing moments passed before Rumplestiltskin remembered that he owned a fully functional set of hands, that he could at least shove her away so he could breathe.  But when he tried that, a flick of the Black Fairy’s fingers shoved his arms back against the wall, pinning them there as if a set of chains held him.  Knowing it was pointless, Rumplestiltskin struggled against the hold of her magic, fighting mindlessly to get away from the magic ripping through him and hand holding him up by the throat.  An eternity ticked by before she loosened her grip enough to allow him to breathe at all, allowing her magic to hold him on his feet since he could stand through the pain.  Even longer passed before the darkness stopped attacking him, before his muscles stopped spasming and twitching and every pain center in his body was able to calm down.

Danns’ magic held him on his feet like a puppet on strings until Rumplestiltskin could support himself.  Finally, she stepped back and released him, cocking her head and studying him curiously as he slumped against the wall.  His chest was burning; had one of his cracked ribs popped out of place?  Without magic, Rumplestiltskin couldn’t tell, but his vision was still doing the can-can.

“We’re going to the Vault,” she told him abruptly, and now it was Rumplestiltskin’s turn to cock his head.

“You’re going to be more specific than that,” he told her between short, hiccup-y gasps for air.  “There are many vaults in this world.”

Danns' a'Bhàis smiled.  “But there is only one that I created, one where the full strength of _your_ curse will be at my disposal, where—no matter what safeguards you have put in place, the dagger _will_ come to me—and where I will make you the Dark One once more.”

 

****************

 

Coming back to the Dark Castle was oddly…comforting.  _You know a place is home when you miss it after you’ve left,_ Bae had once told Emma, back on that first day they’d met, when he’d broken into a county fair and they’d sat on the swings.  He’d had no idea how much he would come to love her, not then—then, Emma had merely been a vaguely interesting girl who had tried to steal the car Neal had already stolen.  But he’d covered for her, and then invited her along, because something in Emma struck a cord in him.  She’d been as lonely as Bae (as Neal) had been, just as lost in a world she never truly belonged in.  Fate really did have a sense of humor, he supposed.  What else could have brought them together, could have given them such a wonderful son as Henry was, and could have finally brought them here?

“It’s so much quieter without everyone and their mother here,” Emma commented, looking around the great hall.

“You mean without your mother here?” he quipped, exchanging a grin with his son.

“Can I see the treasure room, Belle?” Henry piped up immediately. 

Bae’s almost-stepmother chuckled, although her smile never quite reached her worried eyes.  “Which one?  There’s at least six.”

“Really? I only found four,” the teen replied.  Then he stepped forward and, without warning, wrapped his arms around Belle.  “Grandpa will be okay,” he told her with all the confidence a child could muster.  “I know he will.”

Bae could see the pain cross Belle’s face.  She was amazingly strong, but even the strongest people had to break sometimes, and he knew that she was taking his father’s disappearance hard.  In the beginning, he hadn’t at all understood what Belle saw in Rumplestiltskin, but he’d realized early on that her love for his father was true.  And now that Rumplestiltskin was missing, she looked like she had a hole torn in her soul.

“Thank you, Henry,” Belle said softly, hugging him back.

Man, their son was amazing.  Bae met Emma’s eyes with a crooked smile of his own.  He was worried, too, but Henry really was rather extraordinary.  There was something about Henry’s confidence that was just contagious.  The way Henry could _believe_ so purely was simply extraordinary.  When Henry pulled back from Belle, Emma spoke up.

“C’mon, kiddo. You want to explore, and your dad and Belle probably want to figure out what we’re going to do to help your grandfather,” she said, steering Henry out of the great hall and leaving the pair of them alone.

“So,” Bae sighed when the other two were gone.  “What _are_ we going to do?  Do we do what Papa wants and sit tight, or do you have a plan?”

“I don’t know,” Belle admitted, crossing over to a settee and sinking onto it.  “If the message Tink delivered was correct, I’m not sure we _can_ get to him.  But how can we leave him there?”

“Particularly given what happened to him last time,” he agreed, sitting down next to her when Belle patted the settee invitingly. 

“He wants us to stay out of it, but I’m not sure I can,” she said softly, glancing down at her hands.  “Why is it that he never understands how we’re willing to fight for him, too?”

“Because he’s the most hardheaded idiot I’ve ever met,” Bae answered bluntly.  “I love him, but once Pop gets an idea in his head…well, he’s always been like that.  Even when I was a little kid.”

“And he never can quite bring himself to understand that we love him as much as he loves us,” Belle added sadly.  “He doesn’t think he deserves it.”

Bae swallowed hard.  “Some of that’s probably my fault,” he said hesitantly, and Belle’s head whipped around so she could stare at him.

“Don’t say that,” she admonished him, laying a gentle hand on his arm.  “A lot of things have happened to your father, Bae, and you aren’t at fault for anything that occurred after you left.  I know he doesn’t blame you, that he’d _never_ blame you.  So don’t even say that, okay?”

“I just…”

“No.”  Belle squeezed his arm.  “Don’t go there.  Don’t blame yourself.  We’ll get him back, no matter what.”

The guilt he felt surprised Bae as much as it seemed to shock Belle, and it took him a long moment to push the feeling aside.  Intellectually, he knew that the monster who had let him go was nothing like the father he had now—then, Rumplestiltskin had been consumed by darkness, had hurt people all the time, and had absolutely _terrified_ Baelfire.  Now, however, Rumplestiltskin was closer to the man he had been before the curse, and even if there was still plenty of darkness inside him, it was a darkness Bae could live with.  Even before his curse had broken, Rumplestiltskin had been different: more capable of love and better able to contain the evil inside him.   He was the father Bae had missed so terribly during those horrible years in Neverland, the one he thought he’d lost forever after Rumplestiltskin killed Pan…and Bae didn’t want to face even the possibility of losing him.  Not like this.

Despite what Belle said, he knew that he bore a little of the blame for his father’s insecurities.  Pan had abandoned him first, but Bae hadn’t helped matters by running away in New York and by refusing to believe Rumplestiltskin in Neverland.  Perhaps he could be absolved for what had happened at the portal that had initially dropped him into the Land Without Magic, but Bae knew that in the complicated mess their lives had become, he was not entirely innocent.  Neither was his father, of course, but they’d fixed things.  And then this had happened.

“Yeah,” he managed to say after a moment, pushing his worries aside for Belle’s sake.  “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and please take a moment to let me know what you think! Next up is Chapter 44: “The King of Loopholes”, where the Black Fairy brings Rumplestiltskin to the Vault, Maleficent is Up To Something, and Rumplestiltskin makes his move. 
> 
> As a note…we’re getting into the endgame here with this story, probably the last ten chapters or so. There’s lots left to happen, however. Do you think that the Black Fairy is finally going to go down? Is Blue going to get her comeuppance, or is she going to continue on like she has always done? And speaking of futures, will Rumplestiltskin and Belle ever manage to get married?


	45. The King of Loopholes

**_Chapter Forty-Four—“The King of Loopholes”_ **

 

Rumplestiltskin collapsed when they appeared in a swirl of dark magic and toxic fairy dust, his body screaming in pain and still trying to shake spastically.  Landing hard on his knees, he barely caught himself before he could wind up on his face, staring through blurry eyes at the oddly textured surface he had landed upon.  But he was unable to make out any real details; his head was spinning too hard.  He and Danns were in the middle of a field, out in the middle of nowhere, and yet there was _something_ here that he could feel deep in his bones.  Finally his vision cleared enough for Rumplestiltskin to make out the intricately carved surface he knelt on, the symbols that dredged up half-forgotten memories.  The circle Danns had deposited him in the center of was not made of wood or stone; there was nothing natural here.  No, this was solidified darkness, digging through leather and making his knees burn.

It would have burned someone like the Blue Fairy, he realized abruptly, and there was apparently enough light— _True Love, you fool,_ his mind snapped woozily—in him to make it hurt.  Had she noticed that, or was she too distracted?  The Black Fairy also stood on the circle, on the entrance (exit?) to the Vault itself, yet the darkness beneath her feet seemed only to make her stronger.  _She_ was at home here the way he once would have been, though the rot inside her soul was cleverly disguised by beauty and grace.  Yet Rumplestiltskin’s own soul was still too scarred for the outer shell of the Vault to do much damage to him; the burn was uncomfortable, but did not break skin.

Though he had a feeling that it would only grow worse the longer he stayed.  If he fought her.

“This is where I created him, you know,” Danns told him softly.  “Where I finally turned Merlin into the Dark One.”

She sounded as sad as she did triumphant, and Rumplestiltskin craned his neck to look up at her, still too dizzy to stand.  Every inch of his body hurt, and that wasn’t because of the Vault.  Whatever she had hit him with back in fae territory lingered longer than usual.  He was still breathing hard, and it took a moment to force the question out: “Then why do you sound so regretful?”

The word weren’t a taunt, but they didn’t have to be.  Fury still etched its way into Danns’ pale features, and her red hair whipped forward to wildly frame her face as power rose in response to her anger.  In this place, darkness seemed almost to take on a life of its own, and power rose up from the Vault to slam into Rumplestiltskin, holding him against the outer shell at the same time.  It felt like a freight train slamming into him while he was pinned against a wall, and Rumplestiltskin screamed helplessly, convulsing.  Two or three minutes ticked by before Danns seemed able to call the attack off, and he collapsed to his hands and knees, struggling for air.  He couldn’t hear a thing through the roaring in his ears, the pounding agony in every line of his body, and everything _burned._

“I did what had to be done,” she snapped when she was sure he could hear her, sounding defensive.  “And you have no one but yourself to blame when I do the same to you.  I offered you _better._ ”

“You offered me servitude of a different flavor,” Rumplestiltskin retorted, his voice a scratchy and painful whisper.  He spat out blood, watched it slip between several carvings on the Vault.   Within moments, the Vault absorbed the blood like it had never even been there.  “That’s all.”

Hazel eyes flashed.  “I offered you _everything_.  And you do not deserve it.”

Straightening was hard, but Rumplestiltskin managed to get back to his knees, so at least his bare palms were no longer being burned by the vault.  The skin there was growing red and puckered, faster than he’d expected, and he balled his hands into fists to try to block some of the pain off with pressure.  Tremors were still running through his body as he twisted to look Danns in the eye.

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to learn that not everyone sees the world the way you do,” he retorted.  “Your definition of _everything_ is not mine, and I will not live on your terms alone.”

“You have no choice, Rumplestiltskin.  My terms are the _only_ ones you will live by, no matter how hard you fight.”

“Would you live by mine?” he demanded, anger lending him the strength to snarl at her.

Danns looked at Rumplestiltskin like he had gone insane—and perhaps he had, taunting her and outright defying the woman who could hurt him so very badly with a mere gesture.  All while he was completely helpless.  She frowned.  “Of course not.  It isn’t the same.”

“Why not?”

Her frown deepened, and Rumplestiltskin got the impression than Danns really didn’t understand him at all.  But…the last human she had known well had been Merlin.  Merlin who had loved her, worshiped her, trusted her, and then hated her in the end.  Been destroyed by her.  Before that, she and Merlin had fought together, side by side, against all manner of threats—in a world that was very different than the one Rumplestiltskin lived in.  _And the humans she knew then were very different,_ he realized abruptly.  Danns had been in exile for almost a thousand years, and the world had changed while she was gone.  Humans, once mere pawns in the battle between greater powers, had grown up and become the dominant force in the Enchanted Forest.  Even Merlin, powerful though he had been, had deferred to Danns in most matters.

Rumplestiltskin would not.

“I am one of the oldest sentient beings in the entirety of creation,” Danns finally answered.  “You are a _child_ compared to me.  Even Merlin was—”

“I’m no Merlin,” he cut her off in a growl.

“And such a pity it is,” Danns met his anger with her own, her eyes dark and posture rigid.  Wind was starting to whip around her again, and Rumplestiltskin could feel her fury goading her magic further and further into darkness.  A chill ran down his spine, fear making his chest tight; he knew that she’d not wait long before unleashing power and pain upon him again.

Still, that knowledge was not enough to make him shut his mouth, to keep him from getting one last dig in:

“Don’t sound so sorry about it,” Rumplestiltskin retorted.  “You didn’t beat him.  Merlin loved you so much that he _let you win._   It wasn’t the pain that broke him, dearie.  It was you causing it.”

“You know _nothing_ ,” Danns retorted, but he could hear the hurt in his voice right before a wave of darkness slammed into his back, sending him sprawling against the outer shell of the Vault.  Screaming in pain, Rumplestiltskin convulsed wildly, his limbs bouncing uselessly off of the burn-inducing surface under him as darkness ripped through his body.  A minute passed, and then five.  He’d known that throwing that fact in her face might result in more torture, but he hadn’t expected it to last this long—

 Finally, she let up, leaving Rumplestiltskin in a shaking heap on the ground, whimpering helplessly.  Without even meaning to, he curled into himself, clutching his arms to his shuddering chest and feeling the remnants of the magic still racing through him, making bones ache and muscles twitch uncontrollably.  Breathing had gotten difficult again, and Rumplestiltskin’s vision was jumping all over the place; the distant forest had blurred into a green and brown tapestry resembling a child’s sloppy watercolor painting.  Several long moments had to pass before the terrible roaring in his ears calmed down, allowing Rumplestiltskin to focus on Danns once more.

Laboriously, he pulled himself back up to his knees, refusing to just lie there and suffer for her.  She looked so conflicted that he felt another unexpected flash of pity for her, but it withered under the remaining influence of the pain he was still in.  He _still_ couldn’t reach his magic—even if he had pulled still more power from that last bout of torture, and was mere inches away from having enough—but he could strike at her in other ways.

“I know that _Merlin_ tied his power to the curse, not you,” he panted, his voice growing dangerously quiet as he recovered.  “And that’s why you have to put it back in me.  Someone else won’t do, will they?  Because if you do that, you have no guarantee that the demon’s power will be enough.”

Danns’ face remained stony, implacable, but Rumplestiltskin still knew he was correct. 

“Soon enough, your knowledge will do you no good,” she replied instead.  Immediately, he felt power gathering, felt her reaching for the dagger yet again, using the power inherent in the Vault itself to draw the curse to her.  Thiswas where the Dark One had been born.  This was the source of the curse even more than the kris dagger, _this_ was the place where she intended to break him.  “As you say, you are no Merlin.  You are the same man who _shattered_ before.  You will give in to me, and I will take however long I must.”

Fear made his chest tighten still further; he knew she was not bluffing.  _Thirty years meant nothing to her.  Longer would be the same._

“Ah, but you hardly saw me at my best,” Rumplestiltskin forced himself to say as casually as he could, his tone still soft but now with a slight sing-songy cadence.  “I thought I had no magic then.  I thought I had no way to fight you, but I was wrong.”

Danns laughed, and as she did so, the disk beneath the pair of them started to rotate, slowly drilling its way down into the ground, and taking them towards the lower levels of the Vault.  Vague memories of experiences he had never had told Rumplestiltskin that there was a chamber just beneath the surface, one where Danns had kept Merlin for the last decade of the three she had held him, where she had utterly destroyed him and shaped a sorcerer into her slave.  She meant to do the same to him there, and despite his anger, his heart started beating faster and faster in terror.

_Do the brave thing and bravery will follow_ , Belle’s voice said inside his head, and he swallowed hard.  She had always been so much stronger than he—what if he gave in before he could escape?  He had his loophole, but…

“Ah, but you cannot fight me,” the Black Fairy purred, back on balance after his earlier blows.  Smiling, she stepped forward to grab Rumplestiltskin by the wrist, her fingers brushing against the bronze band digging into his skin.  “These ensure you cannot.”

But her touch held power.  Danns' a'Bhàis was an original power, and _she_ was magic.  Quickly, too rapidly for her to react, Rumplestiltskin grabbed that power and drew it towards him, sucking magic in dizzyingly fast.  It merged badly with the light magic his thoughts of Belle had conjured up, but fae magic ripped through him all the same, filling his senses and allowing Rumplestiltskin to _reach_.

He met her eyes.

“Never assume that I can’t fight you, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin told her with a smile, and vanished.

 

****************

 

Once, she’d embraced evil so fully that Maleficent thought nothing in the world could be better.  It was the best kind of high, hurting innocents, particularly when she’d once been forced to be a stilted, trapped, _do gooder_ who served others above herself and only was allowed to do so according to the rules that Blue put down.  Darkness, and the power it brought with it, was _addictive_ , and there had been a time when she had told herself, again and again, that it was enough.  Eventually, she had come to understand that she was lonely, but by then she’d gained herself a pet, a shape shifting unicorn (or crow, depending upon her and his mood) who at could at least fill some of the emptiness in her soul.  She’d taken lovers, too, and advised Regina to do the same, to fill the empty corridors of her castle with _something,_ at least.  Doing so had not made Maleficent happy any more than it would have Regina, of course, but it had been enough.

Now, however, she found herself craving more.  Oh, she didn’t really care about the measly little humans she trapped and destroyed.  They were nothing.  She didcare, a little, about the young (budding) sorcerer she had rescued when the fae had gone _culling_ in Argrabah; Maleficent had claimed him as her own lover, although she had no intention of forcing anything upon the young man, including herself.  No, she wanted the young thief as a student, not as a toy, though there was no reason to let Nuckelavee know that.  Jhudora had tried to claim Aladdin for herself, citing her many years serving the Black Fairy and her greater age, but Maleficent had sidestepped the issue as best she could until Danns' a'Bhàis returned.

Jhudora had been confident that her longtime mistress would side with her, but when the Black Fairy arrived home in a towering fury, Jhudora made the mistake of bringing the issue up right away.  Speaking for herself, Maleficent was more than content to avoid the silver and black tornado that surrounded the fae queen; approaching Danns' a'Bhàis at this time seemed suicidal at best.  Jhudora was too senior and too loyal for the Black Fairy to purposefully harm her, but the magic _burning_ off of her did the job without being bid to do so, and Jhudora flung herself aside hurriedly.  Had her reflexes been any less quick, Jhudora might have been badly burned; as it was, she was only singed a little.

“I think that means you’ve won,” Vidia turned to say softly to Maleficent, her purple eyes following the Black Fairy as she disappeared into her own chambers, still obviously seething.

“I think that means _she_ lost,” Maleficent replied just as quietly, contemplatively.  They all knew that Danns' a'Bhàis had left with Rumplestiltskin and intended to recreate the curse of the Dark One within him, but she had returned alone.  Wasn’t _that_ interesting?

_I could have told you how tricky he is, but you never asked,_ she thought to herself behind a blasé expression.  Maleficent may not have been as old as some of the fae, but she had lived in the world while they had chosen exile to follow their queen.  Maleficent had seen enough Dark Ones to know that Rumplestiltskin was not like the others.  He had always been more clever, always prone to going off in unexpected directions.  But none of them had cared to ask for her experience, even though they had (more or less) accepted her as one of their own.  Oh, she had to weather obnoxious comments from “senior” fae like Jhudora, but Maleficent gave as good as she got.

The fae’s so called-family might have been a little more back-biting than that of the fairies she’d grown up with, but the plain ‘fairies’ would have been rather put out to know that they weren’t much better behaved than their darker cousins.  All in all, Maleficent rather felt like she’d come home after centuries away, and wasn’t _that_ ironic?

“She’ll come up with a solution,” Vidia said with a shrug, breaking into Maleficent’s thoughts quite neatly.  “She always does.”

“Even if it takes a millennia or so?” Maleficent asked, thinking of how long the Black Fairy had been exiled for, thinking of the victory that the Blue Fairy thought she had won.  But the Black Fairy had played a longer game than even Maleficent would have thought could succeed, even given all the centuries she had lived. 

“Exactly.”

Looking at her friend—because yes, damn it all and the dangers involved, Vidia had become her friend—Maleficent let out a cautious breath.  The world was changing.  She had lived long enough to know that what faced them now was unlike anything the Enchanted Forest had ever experienced.  _The world was changing._   She only wished she knew where this was going.  Or what she could do.

“So…what now?” she said instead of revealing her inner thoughts.

Vidia shrugged.  “We wait. Sooner or later, she’ll own the Dark One, and then it will be time to make our move.”

“And what if she doesn’t get him?” Maleficent had been burning to ask that question ever since Vidia had told her what the Black Fairy’s plan was, and now she finally let herself add: “I have known Rumplestiltskin for years—and many Dark Ones before him.  He’s not typical.”

“That hardly matters,” Vidia replied.

“I think it might…” Habit made her smile mysteriously, thinking of all the ways that Rumplestiltskin _wasn’t_ what these people thought he was.  Oh, he was far from Maleficent’s favorite person, and they’d battled more than once in the past, but she agreed with what he was trying to do.  She’d rebelled against Blue because _Blue_ wanted to dictate to Maleficent—and many others—how she should live her life.  Oddly enough, Rumplestiltskin offered freedom, freedom to make _choices_ , something neither fairy wanted to allow for anyone except their closest followers.  Rumplestiltskin refused to be owned every bit as much as Maleficent did, and in this, at least, that made them allies. 

“Why?”

Now it was Maleficent’s turn to shrug.  She couldn’t give _too_ much away, after all.  Though saying too little could very well ruin her cover.  “He’s clever, Vidia,” Maleficent answered honestly.  “More clever than most everyone in here.” 

She gestured airily at the fae’s homeland, at the carefully magic’d and well-concealed area that the Blue Fairy had once exiled her sister to.  Now the Black Fairy utterly controlled this area,  and the fae had decided to call it home despite the way they’d originally acquired it.  Her companion frowned thoughtfully.

“How well do you know him?”

“Better than some.  Less than others.  He taught my best friend magic, and we’ve…battled on and off over the years, mostly as friendly enemies,” she admitted. 

“Your…friend?” Vidia echoed, looking a little worried.

Maleficent smiled, and her friend (and lover) looked relieved when she said:  “Nothing like us.  Just…the sorceress that our lady tried very hard to kill until Blue arrived.” 

“Queen Regina?” the female fae asked, clearly shocked.

“Don’t sound so surprised, dear,” she purred.  “I was exiled for centuries, and not with my own kind as you all chose to be here.  So, I fully embraced the ‘evil sorceress’ role.  Regina was my only friend for a very long time.”

“She’s fighting with our enemies now.”

“It depends on who you define the enemy as,” Maleficent said with a diffident shrug.  “She hates Blue as much as we do, but Regina’s not the kind of human you can turn into a slave, either.”  The very thought made her laugh.  “She’d eat the lot of you alive.”

“Not our lady.”

Coldness crept in to drown her good humor.  “No,” she said darkly.  “Not our lady.”

 

****************

 

Rumplestiltskin landed hard, but he landed exactly where he wanted to be: in the great hall of the Dark Castle.  He was _home_ —home and collapsing, flailing and trying to catch himself, only managing to knock over a nearby pedestal and sending it (and the golden fleece) crashing down to the floor.  He followed less than a second later, bouncing hard off the pedestal and hitting his shoulder hard on the marble floor.  Unable to stop himself, Rumplestiltskin cried out in pain, rolling to his side and gasping for air.  His cracked—or broken; he still couldn’t tell—ribs were throbbing and breathing was hard.  Everything still hurt, and stealing Danns’ magic seemed only to make things worse.  The bands on his wrists, ankles, and neck were burning hot.  Was it his imagination, or had they tightened once he’d managed to _use_ magic and not just store it?

Moaning softly, Rumplestiltskin managed to shove the fleece off of himself—somehow he’d wound up under it—and struggle to his knees.  He wasn’t sure if he could stand at the moment, but at least he was here.  He’d escaped, and he was certain that his wards would keep Danns out of his castle.  For now.

Vision still fuzzy, he looked down at his right wrist.  His left arm was locked around his midsection; instinct had guided it there and kept him clinging to himself in hopes that it could somehow make the pain fade.  But he could see the band on his right wrist, could see it digging into skin and starting to make him bleed.  _Tighter,_ he thought dizzily.  _Definitely tighter._   He had to get the damn bands off.  He had to get them off _soon_ , or he might not be able to get them off at all.  But transporting himself to the Dark Castle had taken more of the magical reserves he’d gathered than Rumplestiltskin had expected.  How far away _was_ the Vault?  Or was it just that bypassing the bands took so much power?  Maybe it was the presence of so much dark fairy magic at the Vault.  He didn’t know.

Letting his eyes slide shut, Rumplestiltskin drew on the last of those reserves, the last of the power he’d stolen from Danns.   Finding it not enough, he stretched his awareness out further, aiming for the reserves of power he’d long ago stored within the Dark Castle, both intentionally and accidentally.  But those were _his_ magic, or at least shaped by it, and too late Rumplestiltskin realized that he couldn’t touch those reserves any more than he could summon his own power.  The bands tightened again as he fought their hold desperately, looking for a thread he could pull, for a weakness to exploit.  But either there were none or he could not summon sufficient power, because dark magic stabbed viciously into his system, finally making Rumplestiltskin throw his head back and scream.

Think.  He had to think.

Tink’s magic had gotten them off last time.  Fairy magic?  If that was what he needed, Rumplestiltskin still owned a vast collection of wands.  He’d never thought about it, but he might even still have _Danns’_ wand somewhere around here.  It had last been in the shop before Regina’s reversal of the curse brought everything back here, and most things that had been in his shop had returned to the Dark Castle.  Rumplestiltskin knew enough to know that Danns didn’t care too much about using a wand except under very particular circumstances, but it was still the _right_ fairy magic and might be what he needed—if only he could gather the strength to walk across the great hall and check the cabinet against the wall.

Not having discovered if Danns’ wand had come through with Regina’s reversal of the curse was an oversight that he should not have allowed himself to make.  Why had he not looked before he’d let something like this happen?  If he _didn’t_ have Danns’ wand, would another fairy wand do the trick?  Rumplestiltskin had collected at least a dozen over the centuries, probably more; he’d stopped counting decades earlier.  One of them would have to work—besides, that wouldn’t be _his_ magic, which meant he could manipulate it.  If he could get to a wand.  

Walking was not going to be fun.  Neither was getting up, because he wasn’t sure he could manage that at all.  The bands were so tight that Rumplestiltskin was starting to lose feeling in his hands, and breathing was becoming tricky.

“Grandpa?” a familiar voice suddenly asked, and Rumplestiltskin’s head whipped to the left so fast that he almost collapsed.

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Chapter 45: “Trust and Family”, in which Rumplestiltskin gets help from an unexpected source. 
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who is still reading! My questions to you this time 1) Who do you think will help Rumplestiltskin and 2) If I tell you there will be two marriages by the end of this story, who do you think the second one will be?


	46. Trust and Family

**_Chapter Forty-Five—“Trust and Family”_ **

 

“Grandpa?”

Henry rushed to his side as Rumplestiltskin swayed precariously, a rainbow of colors swimming across his vision.  Vaguely, he could make out his grandson rushing towards him, and a distant part of Rumplestiltskin’s mind was very grateful that the worst of his re-opened wounds were hidden by the clothes that Danns been kind enough _not_ to strip off him this time.  She’d left him everything from his leather boots to the vest he wore over the blood-red silk shirt Rumplestiltskin had been wearing when he was playing chess with Henry, what seemed an eternity earlier.  His dragonhide coat was probably still somewhere in the Charmings’ castle, but he had spares if he couldn’t get it back.  Thankfully, the color of his shirt disguised the dried and not-so-dried blood sticking to it, and the golden vest hid the worst of it.

Reaching his side, Henry started to move a hand towards Rumplestiltskin’s shoulder, and then stopped.  How much did the lad know?  Henry had always been entirely too perceptive.

“Hey, Henry,” he managed to wheeze.  The bronze band around his neck was impossibly tight now; every breath was a strained gasp.  Worse yet, he was blind again.  The rest of the reserve of magic he had stolen from the Black Fairy had been depleted in his failed attempt to remove those five bronze bands blocking his magic, and Rumplestiltskin felt empty once more.  Trapped.  Helpless.

“Grandpa, what happened?” the thirteen year old asked worriedly, brown eyes huge.  But Henry didn’t panic; no, his grandson was made of much sterner stuff than that.  Without waiting for an answer, Henry squared his shoulders and asked a far more intelligent question: “What can I do?”

Rumplestiltskin coughed painfully, and tried to straighten, his left arm still anchored around his midsection and breathing hard.  He hadn’t expected Henry to be here, hadn’t been sure _anyone_ would be here—how long had it been?  A week?  A year?  Henry didn’t seem any older, but centuries had passed since Rumplestiltskin had really paid attention to how old children looked at certain ages.  Besides, seeing through the agony was complicated; he was pretty sure that Henry wasn’t bouncing up and down, but his vision and tripped-up equilibrium thought he was.  Finally, he managed to straighten enough to answer Henry, managed to scrape up enough energy to speak, scratchy though his voice was.

“Who…who else is here?” he whispered weakly, the room starting to spin.  Abruptly, Rumplestiltskin realized he didn’t have much time; he was probably going to pass out soon, and if he did that, enough time might pass before he woke for Danns to get into the Dark Castle.  No wards were perfect, and she was good at— _Focus, you fool!_ he ordered himself dizzily.

“Um—” Henry started to respond, but Rumplestiltskin shook his head to cut him off.  Bad idea.  That only made the room spin faster, and he coughed out a cry that he couldn’t bite back, not even for his grandson’s benefit. 

“Never mind that,” Rumplestiltskin managed to interrupt.  “I need”—another cough shook his entire body, hard—“a wand.  From the cabinet.  There.”

Trying to point almost made Rumplestiltskin topple, but Henry seemed to get the message.  The brave lad jumped to his feet and rushed towards the cabinet set into the far wall, yanking the glass doors open quickly enough that they creaked ominously. 

“Where are they?” Henry asked, twisting to look at Rumplestiltskin. 

Blackness was starting to creep in on the edges of his vision.  “They’re—”

“Papa?” a new voice asked, and suddenly Baelfire was at his side.  Rumplestiltskin’s world tipped on its axis and he almost fell, only to be caught by his son’s arm around his shoulders.  “Oh, God, Papa, what happened?”

“The Black Fairy, of course,” he replied with a breathless laugh that caught in his throat.  But trying to make light of the situation only made him even more light headed, and Rumplestiltskin collapsed into Bae’s waiting arms.  Slumping against his son, Rumplestiltskin felt his body convulse briefly—no, the bands really didn’t like him having used magic like that.

“You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself,” his son breathed.

Somehow, Bae got him lying down, his head in Bae’s lap.  Spasms ran through his body every few seconds, and lighting flashed across his eyes as a gentle hand brushed hair out of his face.  Without meaning to, Rumplestiltskin moaned at the contact; everything hurt as the adrenaline that had gotten him this far faded out of his system.  His focus was fading rapidly, and the pain was starting to occupy more and more of his consciousness.  Thinking was growing harder and harder, but suddenly Henry was there, the entire box of wands in his hands. 

“I didn’t know which one you wanted,” his grandson said with a crookedly hopeful smile.

“That’s…fine.”  Rumplestiltskin tried to sit up, only to have a massive wave of dizziness knock him back down again.  Just _thinking_ about magic made the bands tighten once more, and he choked out another moan.

“Which one do you need, Papa?” Bae asked, grabbing Rumplestiltskin’s right hand as it flailed blindly for the box.

“Black.  Black…and silver.  With…silver swirls coming away from the grip.” 

He had to close his eyes, just for a moment, and hoped that doing so would make the room stop spinning.  Under any other circumstances, Rumplestiltskin would not have allowed himself to show such weakness, would not have allowed himself to slump into his son’s lap, but he was _home._   This was the Dark Castle, and only his son and his grandson were nearby.  At least there weren’t hundreds of random people in his castle, now, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t feel the overwhelming need to hole up somewhere away from prying eyes.  He didn’t _like_ appearing weak, even in front of Bae and Henry, but at least they were family.

“There’s not one in here like that,” his son replied after a moment, and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flew open.  It was probably too much to ask that the Black Fairy’s wand had wound up in with his collection, but he had hoped.  Perhaps the wand had wound up back in his vault, but entering the void beneath his castle required magic, and—

“Rumple?” another voice cut in, and suddenly Belle was at his side, grabbing his right hand in her own after Bae relinquished it. 

“Hi,” he whispered, chest still tight.  And he might as well take the plunge before he passed out.  Belle was bound to be angry, so angry.  “I’m sorry.  So…sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”  Lips touched his hands, and a ghost of a smile crossed Rumplestiltskin’s face.  But his vision was going wonky again, so he closed his eyes once more, breathing hard. 

“What now, Papa?” Bae asked, touching his shoulder gently.  Without meaning to, Rumplestiltskin flinched slightly; his body was starting to tell him that seven days of repeated torture was just too much, and there was _still_ too much dark fairy magic racing through his system. 

A thought occurred to him, only to be dismissed just as quickly.  This was too much for even True Love’s Kiss to miraculously fix; so long as those bands were present, the magic would continue to feed into his system and eat away at him.  Even Belle’s love couldn’t fix this, no more than it could back in Bremen.  He needed magic.  Nothing else would do the trick—and then a cry tore out of Rumplestiltskin as he convulsed.  The sound surprised even him, as did the pain accompanying it; Henry jumped and he thought he heard Bae swear.  Yes, even thinking of using magic made the bands tighten, and soon enough he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

Could that kill him?  So far as he knew, the only thing that could kill an original power would be a secondary power, yet asphyxiation would still be no fun.  Lack of oxygen was starting to make his lungs burn already.  How much more could the bands tighten?  Rumplestiltskin did not want to find out.  The dizziness was becoming a vortex of random colors and was currently trying to drag him down into a whirlpool of pain and darkness.  His body was starting to twitch, either from the effects of the magic feeding into his bloodstream or lack of air.  Belatedly, Rumplestiltskin realized that he’d drifted away from his son’s question when Bae shook his shoulder carefully.

“Papa?”

“Sorry.”  The word came out in a gasp as he dug into his memory.  “I need…a wand.  Most powerful one in there.  Should be…golden.”

He could hear rummaging around, wands knocking against one another.  Finally, Bae replied: “This one?”

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t see; he tried to gesture with his right hand when turning his head didn’t work, but the effort failed when his fingers refused to work properly.  Still, Bae seemed to understand what he wanted, because suddenly the wand was in front of Rumplestiltskin’s face. 

“Yeah,” he whispered weakly, barely able to make the wand out.  “Give it…”

Finishing the sentence was beyond his strength; had Danns done something so that he would lose strength so rapidly if he escaped?  She’d been several steps ahead of him lately; was this just another time when the Black Fairy would run rings around him?  _No._ That was his fears talking, not logic.  Whatever he had stolen power from at the end had been potent enough that Rumplestiltskin could draw sufficient strength from it, and that meant the same spell was still ripping through him because he couldn’t _stop_ it.

Bae put the wand in his hand, but Rumplestiltskin couldn’t make his fingers close around it.  Were his eyes open?  He couldn’t tell.  Colors were flashing through his vision again, and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not.  Was the wand in his hand?  He could barely feel its weight, and his fingers were absolutely numb.

“Grandpa?” Henry asked, his worried voice sounding like it was coming from a great distance.

“What do you need to do?” Bae asked hurriedly, but Rumplestiltskin couldn’t focus right.  Belle, however, seemed to know exactly what had to be done, and she bent to kiss him gently.

Power surged through him, a wave of light pushing back the darkness just enough.  Rumplestiltskin still couldn’t breathe right, but True Love flowing through his body gave him a little strength.

“Rumple?” Belle whispered.  “You in there?”

True Love, however, couldn’t make his hands work right.  But Rumplestiltskin could manage to answer: “Still here.”

Talking was starting to burn.

“What do you need to do, Papa?” Bae asked again.

“The bands,” he got out with an effort.  “Have to get them…off.  Can’t get at my magic.  With them on.  Need…fairy magic to get them— _off_.”

“Can’t anyone do fairy magic, so long as the wand has magic in it?” Belle, brilliant as she always was, asked.

“More or less.”  Rumplestiltskin scrunched his eyes shut, fighting back blackness.  Of course Belle remembered seeing Robin use magic to save Marian, so many years before.  “Easier if you have magic, though.”

“I felt magic before.  Would that help?” his son wondered.

Floating in pain as he was, Rumplestiltskin had all but forgotten that.  But Bae _had_ felt magic, back when Titania and those other two fae had come to try to take Henry from Charming’s castle, hadn’t he?  Then, he’d known that his son had somehow developed an aptitude for magic (naturally, unlike how Rumplestiltskin had done so), but he’d been too wary of ruining his relationship with Baelfire to mention it.   Rumplestiltskin knew that Bae still sometimes blamed magic for what had happened between the two of them, for how becoming the Dark One ruined the close relationship between father and son, and he was too much of a coward to bring magic between them once more.  Until Bae brought it up now.

“Might,” he wheezed in response, trying one last time to close his hand on the wand.  He could still vaguely feel its weight in his palm, but his fingers absolutely would not respond to his commands.  Magic could do a lot to reawaken a deadened limb, so he was certain he could fix any issues caused by lack of circulation later, but at the moment his hands were useless.

“Then tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” Bae said resolutely, and Rumplestiltskin was so overcome by love for his boy that he could say nothing for a long moment.

“Rumple?” Belle asked when he hesitated, kissing him on the forehead this time, but the effect was the same.  Again, the light brought by her love pushed back the darkness; again, it bought him time.

“Find a good emotion,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, his voice scratchy and barely audible.  Dark magic would never be his son’s forte; Bae had always been better than that.  “Something…powerful.  A memory, or a hope.  Focus on that.”

Come to think of it, his grandson could probably do this just as well as his son, maybe better.  But Rumplestiltskin was not about to ask a worried thirteen year old to harness his emotions, not now. Not like this.  Thirteen was too young to learn magic, anyway.  Henry would be willing, but Rumplestiltskin would not even bring it up.   With someone else, perhaps he would not have been so selfless, but Henry was his grandson.  Learning magic too early did bad things to children, always had.

Where was Emma, anyway?  She’d be the best choice, but there wasn’t time to wonder.

“Okay.  Now what?”  Typical Baelfire; when he focused on something, he got there right away.

“Take the wand.  Push…your focus through it.  Hold that thought and use it to bend the magic to your will.”  Saying such a long sentence left Rumplestiltskin breathless, and he coughed pitifully.  Belle squeezed his hands—when had she grabbed them?  He could barely feel her fingers against his.

He had to focus.  Couldn’t pass out.  Would the bands or his own magic keep him conscious?  Rumplestiltskin was not sure.  Finally, a breath rattled its way in past the band around his neck and he coughed hard, air tingling painfully in his lungs.

“You have to…will it.  Just…tell it what you want, _will it_ , and the magic will obey.”

“There are five of them,” Belle helpfully added the details Rumplestiltskin’s mind was too addled to remember.  “Tink did the ankles or the wrists first, and then his neck.”

“Right.”  Rumplestiltskin could practically hear Bae concentrating, could feel the power building.  A distant part of his mind realized that while his beloved son would never be the powerhouse Emma might become, Bae wasn’t without power; he’d make quite a sorcerer if he put his mind to it.  If.

Suddenly, the pressure on his ankles ceased, and before Rumplestiltskin could say a word, blood rushed back towards his fingertips as the bands popped off his wrists.  Desperate magic surged—Baelfire’s mixed with the fairy magic left by the yellow fairy he’d killed to make a deal with Cinderella—and then he could _breathe_ again, air roaring into his lungs in a giant gasp. 

“You did it, Dad!” Henry cried triumphantly, but Rumplestiltskin barely heard his grandson. 

Awareness slammed into him, magic filling his mind, his fingers, his soul.  He let out one relieved breath, and then another, not caring if the pain was suddenly greater as his mind worked its way out the fog.  He could _feel_ now, was no longer blind and dumb.  The offness he’d felt ever since Danns had surprised him with those magic-blocking bands vanished, and when Rumplestiltskin’s eyes slid open, he could see clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.  The great hall, slid into focus, colors no longer merged together in one giant blur.  Relief coursed through him, making him feel weak and strong all at once.  He wasn’t helpless, not now.  _Never again._

“Yeah,” Bae answered his own son, sounding rather surprised.  “I did.”

“Thank you, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin managed to whisper, his voice still scratchy, but at least his throat no longer felt like it was burning with every word.

And now he could make out the lopsided smile his son was throwing his way.  “Any time, Pop.”

Freeing a hand from Belle’s gasp, Rumplestiltskin reached out for his son, and was glad when Baelfire met him halfway, grabbing the hand and holding on tightly.  Rumplestiltskin was still too weak to match his son’s grip, but he did scrape up a smile.  Who would have thought, back when Bae had wanted to kick him out of his apartment in Manhattan, that they could come this far?  Rumplestiltskin had never imagined that they might heal their relationship this much, but here he was, with his head in his son’s lap and surrounded by his family, including the grandson he had not known he had for so very long.  He wasn’t sure when Bae and Henry had joined Belle in his castle—or when she had gotten back—but Rumplestiltskin was so very glad they were there.

“So, uh, anyone want to explain to me what in the world is going on here?” a fifth voice suddenly asked, and Rumplestiltskin managed to turn his head to see a rather confused Emma Swan standing not too far away.

The habitual sarcastic remark died on Rumplestiltskin’s lips when Bae looked up at the Charmings’ daughter like she was the only light in his world.  “I, uh, can do magic?” his son said with a very crooked grin.  Henry’s mother shrugged.

“Yeah, I noticed.  Walked in just in time to see that.”  She looked down at Rumplestiltskin.  “You’re a mess.”

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious,” he murmured, throat still sore. 

“What now?” Belle interjected before the two of them could embark in a verbal sparring match.  That she did so was probably a very good thing; Rumplestiltskin, much though he didn’t want to admit it, was not up to keeping up with someone as swift as Emma at the moment.

“I need…some sleep,” he admitted softly, still seeing a rainbow of colors when he wasn’t forcing himself to concentrate.  “Then I can heal myself.  I’ll be fine.”

“Will another kiss help?”  Belle sounded hopeful and worried and a little bit angry all at the same time, and he couldn’t blame her.  One of these days, Rumplestiltskin would figure out a way to conquer the problems dark fairy magic wrecked on his system, but he still didn’t have one, so he just nodded and let True Love do its work.  Closing his eyes as their lips met, Rumplestiltskin felt himself relax ever so slightly, felt Belle’s love making him stronger.

This time, he felt more than marginally better, at least.  Without the bands to keep their True Love from uniting with his power, the pure magic raced through his system, tingling through limbs and giving Rumplestiltskin at least the illusion of strength.  His vision cleared a little, and he could feel his breathing ease.  The pain didn’t vanish; True Love would break any curse and could pull you back from death’s door, but it was no cure-all panacea, and Rumplestiltskin hadn’t expected it to be.  Sucking in an experimental deep breath, he amended what he had said before, not wanting to seem weak in front of his family.  Or Emma.  He wasn’t sure if she was family or not yet, but, well… “If you help me up, I can walk.”

“You’re an idiot,” Emma snorted before anyone else could speak up.  Rumplestiltskin grimaced.  Unfortunately, she probably _could_ see more than he wanted her to, and he lacked the energy to put up a glamour of any sort, or to stop her from figuring out exactly what was wrong with him.  He was still so damn _tired._

But not so tired that he couldn’t glare at her.

“Do try to contribute something useful next time, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin snapped.

“Fine.  Then how about _I_ heal you, and _then_ you walk?” the princess retorted.

“You sure you can manage that without bringing the castle down around us?” he demanded, the words coming out half a wheeze.  Damn his weakness!  She always brought out the worst in him, Emma did.  A part of Rumplestiltskin had always liked the fact that Emma stood up to him, but there were times when she just drove him mad.  Times he was hurting and was dead tired were definitely on the top of that list—and he didn’t _like_ the idea of someone else healing him.  No, he preferred to trust his own magic for that, to trust himself over the Charmings’ damn daughter…at least when he could see straight.

“Rumple,” Belle admonished him, even as Bae choked on laughter.

“How about you just say please and thank you, Papa?” his son chuckled.

Rumplestiltskin glared, but Emma still dropped unceremoniously onto the floor next to him, sitting between Bae and Henry, crossing her legs and arching an eyebrow.  “Well?” she said expectantly.

“Try not to break my castle with careless magic,” he grumbled, too tired to argue.  “Or _me._ ”

Still, he took a firm hold on his magic, feeling the way his power started responding to his irritation.  No, he was in no shape to heal himself; holding onto his own wild emotions was hard enough at the moment.  A week—if it had been a week—of pain and terror left Rumplestiltskin in no shape to harness his emotions and thus his magic, or at least not until he had a bit of time to bring himself back under control.  Last time, his magic had taken over and healed him, _saved_ him, acting before Rumplestiltskin knew what was happening.  Now, however, he apparently had another option.  Little though he liked to admit it, that was probably a good thing…because he wasn’t so badly off that his magic would take over to save his life, but he also wasn’t coherent enough to do the job himself.

“And deprive you of the opportunity to complain?  Not a chance,” Emma grinned, but Rumplestiltskin could see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

 _Great.  Am I going to walk_ her _through this, too?_   Rumplestiltskin could feel the darkness starting to edge in on him again, could feel Danns’ magic starting to take over his system once more.  Everything was starting to hurt all over again, and his mind was getting a little scrambled.  Healing was far more complicated than what he’d just coached Bae through doing, and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t entirely sure that he’d be able to _follow_ Emma’s work, let alone take her through the process step by step.  After all, there were so many distractions around…Belle, Bae, Henry…what if the lad started to—

Grimacing, he closed his eyes tightly, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand when it started to drift.  No.  Emma had come further than that.  She didn’t need someone to hold her hand and tell her what to do—she was Emma Swan. She needed a swift kick in the rear end, sometimes, but she knew what she had to do.  Emma just needed someone to remind her that she _could_ do it, not to someone tell her how.  Not that it made Rumplestiltskin any happier with the idea of someone else healing him, but the pain was only getting worse as True Love faded out of his system.  Dark Fairy dust was known for being difficult to eradicate, and the magic that came from it was capable of digging in even deeper.  Danns had had a week to get her claws into him, and right now Rumplestiltskin really could feel them stabbing in.

No.  Years of magical experience told him that waiting would only make things worse.  Who knew what kind of traps Danns had laid while he couldn’t stop her?  Rumplestiltskin knew that the Black Fairy had let more than a few behind, but he hadn’t been able to identify all of them at the time.  And yet there was no way Danns had anticipated Emma’s presence here, or had expected _Bae,_ of all people, to be able to remove the bands.  Defeating the Black Fairy’s magic on him might very well take all three of them—Bae to free him, Emma to heal him, and Rumplestiltskin to dismantle the traps she’d laid that even Belle’s kiss could not destroy.  Like it or not, he lacked the strength to do accomplish even two of the three needed tasks, and that meant he had to push aside his pride and paranoia.

“Fine,” Rumplestiltskin snapped.  “Just get on with it.”

At least none of them expected him to be _gracious_ when he was hurting this much; even Bae smiled wanly when his father snarled at the woman he loved, still holding Rumplestiltskin’s head in his lap while Belle held Rumplestiltskin’s hands.  Emma, thankfully, was rock solid under pressure, her eyes clear and focused.

“Slow and steady wins the race, right?” the savior asked him, magic building around her.

“Yeah.”  White light flared in front of his eyes as Rumplestiltskin rasped the rest: “Harness that emotion and think.”

“Right.” 

Belle squeezed his hands gently, and Rumplestiltskin tried to smile.  The effort collapsed into a groan, however, as his own power tried to react to Emma’s, and Rumplestiltskin barely grabbed ahold of it in time.  A hiss of pain escaped from behind suddenly clenched teeth as he struggled to contain his magic; it had been chained for far too long, trapped too well, and wanted to lash out.  Fed by his wrung out emotions, by his lingering terror, the power strained against his hold, beating against Rumplestiltskin’s internal defenses.  It didn’t care that Emma had nothing to do with trapping it, didn’t care that Emma was trying to help. The power wanted a target, and Emma was the most magical person it could find.

“Speaking of bringing down the castle…” Emma trailed off meaningfully, but Rumplestiltskin was still too preoccupied with his internal battle to catch the hint in her voice until Bae added:

“It’s getting kind of windy in here, Papa.”

He sucked in a shakily gasp, hating how pained it was.  Bae was right; he had to control this, even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to just let his raging power loose.  “Give me a moment.”

“Rumple?  Whose magic is this?” Belle asked gently.  Worriedly.  “Is the Black Fairy…?”

“It’s his,” Emma guessed astutely.  “Can you get ahold of it, Gold?  I don’t think me trying to heal you when your magic wants to go wild is such a good idea.”

Rumplestiltskin managed to snort.  “Give the girl a medal.”  Finally, he wrapped his mental fingers around the right threads, bolstering the normal barriers which he kept his magic slumbering behind until needed.  Fire burned throughout his consciousness, but Rumplestiltskin brought the furious power back under control, wrapping his wild emotions up in a cocoon that isolated them from his magic.  The words hurt coming out:  “Go ahead.”

Emma didn’t bother to respond; she just acted.  Rumplestiltskin had to give her credit: it was plain that the savior had been practicing since the lesson he’d given her, and she definitely had a better—and more confident—grip on her magic now than ever before.  _It probably helps that she doesn’t like me enough to get really worried about me,_ he thought with wry amusement.  When Emma had healed her father, it had been in an emotion and fear driven rush.  Now, however, she was dispassionate enough to pull the right pieces together, to carefully restore what was broken (torn and bruised) rather than power her way through a quick fix.   Moment by moment, she knitted broken bones together and smoothed wounds away, warmth sweeping through Rumplestiltskin’s system as she worked.

The pain eased almost immediately, although the pressure of darkness within him remained.  Healing wasn’t able to entirely speed his recovery from a week’s worth of malnutrition, but it could mitigate some of the problems making him feel so weak, and Rumplestiltskin felt strength easing back into his limbs.  The horrible dizziness started to recede, and when he opened his eyes again, he could make out his family’s faces without too much blurring them together.  Of course, the darkness reared up immediately, stealing into the cracks Emma left behind—naturally talented through she was, this was only  her second time healing significant injuries, and there were bound to be slight flaws in her work—but he could deal with that.  Now that his limbs were not shaking so spastically and the pain was clearing out of his mind, there were a great many things Rumplestiltskin could do.

His power wanted a target: now he gave it one.  Unleashing the raw strength of an original power, he let his magic attack the darkness Danns had forced inside him, let it destroy the invading tricks and traps, let it lash out as it wanted so badly to.  He provided a little guidance, ensuring that the magic did not go after his family and that it only targeted the magic Danns had left behind.  Other than that, Rumplestiltskin let his power boil through his mind and his body, overpowering most of the traps Danns had left in a way he was certain she thought he could not, appreciating the raw power for what it was.  Subtlety had always been his preferred method of combat, but there was something to be said for the ability to simply crush things, to hear magic sing in his mind and know he was not helpless.

Very few seconds passed while his magic worked, and finally Rumplestiltskin was able to smile.  “Thank you, Emma,” he said in a voice that was far less strained and hoarse than his had been only minutes prior.  “It seems we’ll make a sorceress out of you yet.”

She glared, but he could still see the smile lurking underneath the expression that tried a little too hard to be hostile.  “Don’t count on it.”

“Of course not,” he replied with a soft chuckle.  That answer had been automatic, Rumplestiltskin knew.  He and Emma would probably always strike sparks, and probably always even enjoy bringing out the worst in one another.

“Are you okay, now, Grandpa?” Henry asked quietly, brown eyes still worried.  The lad probably had been able to feel the gathering power, and without any frame of reference to put it in, Henry was probably wondering what in the world had happened.  Come to think of it, Bae was probably thinking along much the same lines.

“Yes.”  It took a bit more effort than Rumplestiltskin wanted it to, but he sat up without falling back down.  “Yes, Henry, I am.”

His grandson’s brilliant smile could have put the sun to shame.  “I’m glad.”

“Me, too.”  He was still a little dizzy, but it was nothing insurmountable.  Nothing a little sleep wouldn’t fix.  Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath and looked at his family—and yes, it was probably time to admit that Emma was starting to become a fixture there, whether he wanted her to or not.  “Thank you.  All of you.  I feel…a lot better.”

He hated needing help, wasn’t used to depending upon others.  Rumplestiltskin had spent three centuries alone, three centuries trusting no one but himself.  Even once he’d fallen in love with Belle he hadn’t truly trusted her, not in the beginning, but he’d come to do so, her and these others.  Looking in their eyes, Rumplestiltskin realized that, despite his fears to the contrary, they didn’t think less of him for having been kept prisoner and then needing help to deal with the aftermath of that.  He only saw concern and compassion, and a surprising amount of acceptance.  No, he wasn’t used to needing help…but he didn’t regret accepting it, either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up – Chapter 46: “Allegiances”, where Rumplestiltskin tries to propose, Blue pays Snow and David a visit, and Tink proves even sneakier than before.


	47. Allegiances

**_Chapter Forty-Six—“Allegiances”_ **

 

“Who’s this?” Snow asked curiously as Regina strode into the castle, handing baby Graham over to Ruby.  Why Snow had been with the child in the front hall Regina did not know, but at least it simplified her return a great deal.  The rabbit had dropped her, Robin, and Jafar off right outside the Charmings’ castle, after which he and Will headed back to wherever they wanted to be in Wonderland.  Then Regina hauled the genie back towards the castle George had once owned, exchanging relieved smiles with her lover.  Somehow or another, Snow and Charming’s castle had become home…and Henry would be here.

Regina didn’t even try to restrain her smile—even seeing her (once hated) stepdaughter did nothing to dim her happiness.  She’d been gone for too long, and Regina missed Henry desperately.  She couldn’t wait to see her son and tell him all about their adventures in Wonderland, a place that Henry would have found absolutely fascinating.  Of course, despite the fact that Will and Anastasia were in charge, Wonderland still wasn’t the kind of place that she’d let her son visit.  _Not until he’s a whole lot older, anyway!  And certainly not without me along to keep him out of trouble._   Or to keep Henry out of _too_ much trouble, anyway.  Regina still had problems accepting the fact that her little boy was grown up enough to _want_ to find trouble, and intellectually, she knew that she couldn’t protect him forever.  Not that she wasn’t going to try.

“This is Jafar,” Robin replied when Regina was lost in thought, and the dark-haired sorcerer swept Snow a graceful bow. 

“Greetings, my lady,” he said with what he probably thought was a charming smile.  Truth be told, it _was_ a charming smile, but Regina knew that Snow would be proof against it.  After all, True Love was the best kind of armor against foolish infatuations.

“This is Queen Snow,” Robin put in before Jafar could start the seductive routine, rolling his eyes.

“You’re the genie?” Snow asked curiously, exchanging a look with Ruby before glancing back at Regina, her eyes full of questions.  Regina just shrugged and let Jafar answer.

“I am currently a genie, yes,” he replied. “Though I would like to point out that it is through no choice of my own.  Before that, I was a sorcerer…of no small talent.”

“And no small ego, either,” Regina interjected with a snort.

Jafar only smiled.  “Modesty has little place in our profession…Your Majesty. “

Snow actually chuckled, and not for the first time, Regina wanted to strangle her stepdaughter—though at least she didn’t want _too_ badly to do so.  Not these days, anyway.  The young queen only gave Regina a crooked smile that seemed to say that it took one to know one, and that Regina’s ego wasn’t exactly lacking in its own strength. 

“I imagine it isn’t,” the young queen said, glancing between the two of them.  “So…I take it that our guest has decided to help us against our enemies?”

“Help you?” Jafar echoed, his eyebrows rising as he glanced Regina’s way.  “No one said anything about _helping_ anyone when my lamp was taken.”

“You didn’t tell him?”  Snow asked.

“We didn’t have a lot of free time,” Robin replied when Regina just shrugged.

“He didn’t need to know,” she pointed out.  “I have his lamp.  If he gets frisky, I’ll just pop him back in it and keep him in cold storage until I need him again.  Or until Rumplestiltskin wants him.  Whichever comes first.”

“It’s not that simple, Regina,” Snow said with a sigh.  “Rumplestiltskin disappeared about a week ago.  We…well, everything we know indicates that the Black Fairy has him.  Emma, Henry, and Bae went back to the Dark Castle to try to figure out a way to get him back.”

One part of that sentence stuck out to Regina before the rest sank in: Henry wasn’t there.  Again.  She was going to wait to reunite with her son once more, all because Emma Swan felt the need to go haring off with her boyfriend because Rumplestiltskin had gotten himself in trouble.  Of course he had.  Damn him.  How could he ruin everything quite so thoroughly without even being there?  Or maybe it was Emma’s fault.  She’d never had a hard time blaming Emma before.  But even those thoughts weren’t serious.  Regina didn’t actually _mean_ any of them, not even in the privacy of her own mind.  She was just terribly annoyed.

“ _Rumplestiltskin_ was captured?” Robin said incredulously.

Snow nodded.  “Unfortunately.  We—”

“Wait a moment,” Jafar interjected, his eyes suddenly intent and posture tense.  “Did you say the _Black_ Fairy?  She was exiled over a thousand years ago!”

“Yes, and she broke out during the curse.  Get with the program,” Regina snapped, her mind still on Henry.  And, well, perhaps a little bit on her friend, who had apparently gotten himself in a world full of trouble again.

 _If I have to save his ass a second time, Rumple is_ so _going to owe me,_ she thought to herself. 

“Get with the program?” Jafar echoed, throwing her a look like she had gone absolutely insane.  “Are you mad?  Don’t you understand how much danger we’re all in?  Legend says that the Black Fairy can control the Dark One.  That she _created_ the Dark One.  No one can stand against the pair of them.  No one.”

Despite herself, Regina was rather impressed by the depth of Jafar’s knowledge.  It had taken Rumplestiltskin quite some to figure that information out, and yet Jafar had it at his fingertips.  Apparently her new genie was a lot smarter than the last one.  Except Regina still knew some things that Jafar didn’t, so she smirked as if she’d always known more than him.

“Well, then it’s a good thing that Rumplestiltskin isn’t the Dark One any longer,” she retorted.  “His curse is broken.”

“Is that why he wants me?” Jafar asked shrewdly.  “Because he has no power of his own now?”

Robin snorted.  “That’s rich,” the outlaw put in.  “Do you think either of us are that gullible that we’d go trekking across bloody Wonderland if that were the case?”

“The thought had crossed my mind.” Jafar shot him a droll look. 

Regina just let her smile grow.  “Tell you what.  I’ll let you meet Rumplestiltskin, and then you can decide for yourself.  Until then, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to, or back in the lamp you go.” 

Jafar glared mutinously, but what else could he do?  Now Regina just had to figure out a way to rescue Rumplestiltskin from the evil fairy that had almost killed her—because there was no way in hell she was going to let the imp skip out of dealing with the Black Fairy—and hand off Jafar before she killed him.  Or wished him into shutting up.  Permanently.

 

****************

The Indigo Fairy was an old friend of Tink’s, going all the way back to the days when they were both novices, all thumbs and dust accidents.  In fact, the two of them had been responsible for the now infamous incident with a dozen other novices, two bags of fairy dust, and a very unfortunate Lime Fairy being turned into a unicorn.  The senior fairies had been furious at them for pulling that stunt, though both had somehow managed to graduate into full fairy status despite that—and despite several other practical jokes their elders did not approve of.  Those days were long in the past, but Tink and Indigo remained friends…even if Blue was unaware of it.  Blue probably wouldn’t be happy to know that Indigo had called on Tink for help, but Indigo was no fool and Tink would never leave a friend in trouble.

“I got the news from a pirate, actually,” Indigo told her when they met on a cliff overlooking the main part of Prince Eric’s hereditary kingdom.  “And I _think_ he was telling the truth, though you know how pirates are…” She blushed.

Tink knew that look.  “It wasn’t Captain Hook, was it?”

“How did you know?”

“Hook has that effect on women,” she replied drily, rolling her eyes.  Did Hook have a thing for fairies now that Emma had turned him down, or was it just that he’d flirt with anyone remotely female?  Indigo _was_ rather sheltered, as most fairies were, which meant Hook hadn’t even had to be actually propositioning her.  Just flirtatious.

“I’m not a woman.  I’m a—” Indigo frowned.

“Fairy.  Yeah, I know.  But I don’t think the two are as far apart as Blue wants us to believe, either.”  Still, now wasn’t exactly the time to fight that battle, so Tink squared her shoulders and returned to the subject at hand.  “What did Hook tell you?”

“The merchants’ ships from this kingdom keep getting attacked by sea monsters,” Indigo replied.  They think it’s Blue’s doing.”

“What?”

Arrogant and overbearing though Blue could be, Tink could not see her sending sea monsters after an entire kingdom, even if Eric’s father had allied with the Black Fairy (under duress though that choice had been).  But Blue was not guilty, who was?  Controlling sea monsters took a great deal of magic, and now that Tink actually _looked_ , she could see a dozen or so of the creatures lurking outside the harbor.  There was no way that so many monsters had converged on that one area of ocean by accident, which meant that someone had caused this.  But who would dare?

“That’s what I thought.  But Blue said she was too busy to deal with the problem, and that time would reveal that we fairies are not at fault.”

“Typical,” Tink snorted.  “She has been a little single-minded lately.”

“The Black Fairy _does_ have to be stopped,” Indigo replied loyally, and Tink tried not to scowl.  Her friend had always been more prone to buying into the company line, although Tink probably would have been just as loyal if Blue ha d not exiled her to Neverland and made Tink open her eyes to the big picture.

“Of course she does.  But we can’t abandon our responsibilities in the meantime, either,” she pointed out.

“Blue says she’ll help after the Black Fairy is exiled once more.”

The senior “good” fairy undoubtedly meant that, too.  Tink, however, was not prepared to wait that long before solving this problem.  People were dying needlessly, and part of being a fairy was preventing things like that.  Blue might have forgotten that, but Tink hadn’t.

“Is Hook still around?” she asked instead of saying what she thought of Blue’s dogged focus on her evil sister.

“He is.  He and his crew killed one of the monsters, but he’s staying out of the harbor.”

“Good.”  Tink nodded briskly.  “Then let’s pay the _Jolly Roger_ a visit.”

Indigo paled.  “You want to go out on a _ship_?” she squeaked.

Why were some fairies so afraid of water?  Tink only grinned, having no such fear.  She lifted off the ground, and headed out to sea, confident that her friend would follow her.  Indigo had always been willing to follow Tink, even when it got her into trouble.

“Of course we are!” she answered, shouting to be heard over the wind.  “You can’t exactly summon a sea witch from the shore!”

“Wait a minute!” Her old friend grabbed her arm, stopping both fairies in mid-flight.  “Please tell me you don’t want to summon Ursula.”

“Who else would I go to?  Either she’s responsible or she knows who is,” Tink pointed out reasonably. 

Besides, Tink had faced off with Pan.  Compared to him, Ursula was just a cranky old woman who liked to snack on mermaids.  Tink and Indigo would hardly been on her menu, although a good-looking pirate might draw her in for other reasons.  Legend said that Ursula was half-mermaid, half-fae herself, Tink remembered, and that brought up an extremely interesting question.  How _did_ the Black Fairy feel about half-breeds?  If she was half as snobbish as her sister, the Black Fairy probably hated people like Ursula.  And Ursula had promised Rumplestiltskin that she wouldn’t move against their alliance; perhaps she would be willing to help them instead of just staying out of things.

If she played her cards right, maybe Tink could also get Ursula to rescue a certain mermaid-turned-princess, and they could free Eric’s father from the Black Fairy’s grasp.  Rumor said that the fae had created an underwater prison for Ariel, one that none of her would-be rescuers could reach but Ursula certainly could.  Laughing to herself, Tink led Indigo towards the _Jolly Roger_.  They had sea monsters to banish, an ally to make, and a princess to save.

 

****************

 

Despite Emma’s surprisingly expert healing, Rumplestiltskin slept for almost two days straight.  His family, even Emma, took turns sitting with him while he did, even when Rumplestiltskin grumbled and groused that he didn’t need babysitting and he certainly didn’t need anyone to hold his hand.  Complaining was of no use, though.  Belle just smiled and kissed his forehead.  Bae just laughed and told him that he deserved that and worse.  Henry only looked at him with curious brown eyes and distracted his grandfather with questions until Rumplestiltskin drifted back off.  And of course, Emma just told him to shut up and go back to sleep.

This time, however, the savior listened when Rumplestiltskin told her that he was awake for good, and Emma left him to get dressed.  This was the afternoon of the second day since his escape, and Rumplestiltskin would go crazy if he tried to stay in bed any longer.  But he did wait for her to leave before he got up, carefully testing his body and his balance, and moving far more slowly than he wanted to.  Random aches and pains still travelled up his limbs at odd moments, and he was far weaker than he wanted to be.  _It was only a week_ , Rumplestiltskin tried to tell his body, but unfortunately, his body wasn’t paying attention to logic.  It still hurt, although nothing like before.  At least his equilibrium was back on center now that he could feel his magic again.  Rumplestiltskin felt like himself, not like some defenseless prisoner locked in the dark.

After a bath that made him feel vaguely human again, Rumplestiltskin headed down towards the great hall, only to run into Belle on the stairs.  He smiled.  “Hey.”

“Emma told me you were up.  Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m hungry,” he replied with a smile.

“We could have—”

“A quip.  I’m sick of being in bed,” Rumplestiltskin cut her off, and then reached for her, needing to hold her close, needing Belle to be real.  It had only been a week, but...  “Come here?”

 Belle slipped into his arms without argument, seeming to sense Rumplestiltskin’s need and matching it with her own.  For a long moment, they just held one another, treasuring the fact that they _could_ be together when life seemed to be conspiring to keep them apart.  Time and time again, they had faced challenges to their love, but here they were, together.  Yet again, thinking of Belle had been enough to keep Rumplestiltskin sane, to give him the strength to face the pain and continue to resist.

“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair.

“For what?” Belle asked curiously, but he sensed that she wasn’t ready to let go, either.  In fact, she snuggled closer to him and held on tight.

“You make me stronger,” Rumplestiltskin told her for the second time.  “I kept thinking of what you said to me once, about why you came to the Dark Castle when I made that deal for you, and it helped me face…everything.”

Belle leaned back enough to look at him.  “What did I say?”

The words had echoed in his mind for so many years.  Was it possible that Belle had forgotten?

“Do the brave thing and bravery will follow,” he quoted, and was answered by a brilliant smile and a slight blush.

“Oh.  That.  Did it help?”

“You always help,” Rumplestiltskin said honestly, bending his head to kiss her.  Belle met his lips eagerly, and he felt True Love surging through him.  Through both of them.  It was a tangible, magical reminder of this amazing love he had somehow found, of this extraordinary woman Rumplestiltskin knew he would never deserve.  He’d spent the few moments the fae had left him alone thinking of Belle, promising himself that he wouldn’t hesitate again when he got back.  In fact—

“I’m sorry,” Belle blurted out before Rumplestiltskin could start to speak, her words coming out in a rush.  When he looked at her, her blue eyes were wide and full of regret.  “If I hadn’t called you, you wouldn’t have been captured and the Black Fairy wouldn’t have been able to hurt you again.  This is all my fault.”

“Belle—” he started, only to have her shake her head stubbornly. 

“I shouldn’t have called you.  I—”

“Belle!” Rumplestiltskin finally managed to make her stop, cupping her face gently in his hands.  “If you hadn’t called me, Norco would have killed you.  Speaking for myself, I’ll face a week of Danns’ hospitality if it saves your life.  It’s not a choice, sweetheart.  That’s a price worth paying.”

“But…”

Rumplestiltskin kissed her forehead, wondering if he should tell her that he’d wondered if he could have escaped the magic that had stolen him away.  No, he decided.  While he’d thought he was allowing himself to be taken at the time, Rumplestiltskin didn’t know for certain.  Danns might have been able to capture him, anyway, despite his efforts to the contrary.  If Belle didn’t bring it up, he wouldn’t; there was no need.  Besides, he had other things he wanted to talk to her about, far more important ones.

“Would you have done the same for me?” he asked his love, already knowing what the answer would be.

“Of course.” Belle didn’t even hesitate.

“Then why do you wonder why I would do the same?” Rumplestiltskin smiled at her.  “I love you, Belle.  I would do anything to save you.”

Belle kissed him again.  “I love you, too.”

Closing his eyes, Rumplestiltskin let his forehead lean in to rest against hers, gathering his courage—what little he’d ever had—and telling himself that he knew what her answer was.  Henry had been right, all those months ago.  There was no reason to wait, and every reason not to.  He _loved_ her, and Rumplestiltskin would shout that fact to the world if it made Belle happy.

“Belle, I—”

“There you are, Grandpa!” Henry’s voice interrupted without warning, and Rumplestiltskin turned to see his grandson bounding up the stairs towards them.  “Dad says come quick.  Someone’s at the gates, and it looks like there’s trouble.”

Of course there was.  Wasn’t that the story of his life?

 

****************

 

David glanced at Snow as their unexpected guest made herself comfortable.  At Blue’s request, the king and queen had met with the senior fairy in private, leaving even Regina out.  That didn’t mean that they wouldn’t tell Regina what had transpired afterwards—although David wasn’t sure if Blue really appreciated that fact or not—but the fairy did have a point.  Excluding Regina from this little discussion certainly _did_ insure that there would be a lot less arguments.  Regina didn’t like Blue, probably just on principle, and they all knew that Blue would never forget that Regina had been the Evil Queen.  These days, David found himself sympathizing with Regina  a lot more than he did the fairy, but of Blue was here to offer help, it was probably better to let her do so without someone present who would heckle her.

Still, why couldn’t he escape the feeling that Blue had expressly waited until Emma and Baelfire were gone?  There would have been no logical reason to exclude Emma from these discussions, and if Blue didn’t want to talk to Snow and David’s heir, that meant she felt Emma might have some choice (and blunt, knowing Emma) words to say about whatever it was Blue was proposing.  Unlike most people who had grown up in the Enchanted Forest, Emma hadn’t always believed that the Blue Fairy was the epitome of all that was right and good in the world.  She was quick to question and didn’t hesitate to doubt Blue’s motives, which David had to admit wasn’t exactly as much of a problem as it used to be.  Lately, particularly with Blue’s refusal to back down from ‘needing’ Henry’s heart, David found himself often sharing Emma’s opinion on Blue than he did Snow’s.

Of course, his wife had many reasons to love and trust the Blue Fairy.  And Blue _had_ helped them many times, back when they’d been desperately fighting Regina and trying to stay alive.  But that hadn’t been the case during the last few years, when Regina (and even Rumplestiltskin) had helped them far more than the fairies had.  David knew that Snow wanted to still trust Blue, and he even understood why, but he was feeling a lot less charitable toward the fairy these days, and tried not to grimace when Blue gave Snow a maternal smile.

 _Don’t you go trying to manipulate my wife,_ he thought irritably.  _Snow’s not stupid, and she’s already told you that you can’t have Henry’s heart._ Still, that line of thinking brought up a question.  If Blue understood that neither of them was about to sacrifice Henry’s heart, what _did_ she want?

“Thank you for seeing me,” the fairy said with a gentle smile that was directed at both of them.

“You know our door is always open to friends,” David replied, squeezing Snow’s hand and hoping she didn’t mind the slight edge he put behind those words.  But he could tell from the look on her face when she glanced his way that she didn’t; Snow was wary, too.

“I’m glad.  But I’m afraid that I come bearing terrible news.”

“What kind of terrible news?” Snow spoke up, and David could feel the tension in her.  Had something happened to—

“As you already know, Rumplestiltskin has…fallen into the Black Fairy’s hands.  If that was not bad enough, my spies within the fae ranks have indicated to me that he has chosen to submit to her.”

“What?” The word came out before David could stop it.

“Rumplestiltskin has allied with her,” Blue clarified, her eyes on Snow’s face.  “He may even now be the Dark One once more.”

“Why would he do that?” Snow asked, glancing at David in confusion.  After all, they both remembered the explanation Rumplestiltskin had (perhaps not too happily) offered months back, when most of the Alliance was still at the Dark Castle.  “He told us that he was more powerful without his curse.  And he’s clearly happier that way.”

“Rumplestiltskin has always trafficked in lies, child.”  Blue sounded sad, but David wasn’t sure he was buying that one.  Yes, Rumplestiltskin had misled them our outright lied to them a half a hundred times, but David had a pretty good read on the other man by now.  Manipulation and misdirection were in his nature, but he wasn’t someone who would choose to ally himself with the Black Fairy simply to get a curse back.  Particularly not when he clearly had plenty of power without it.

“Maybe so, but he’s been fighting at our side for months,” he pointed out, all too clearly _not_ adding that Blue hadn’t been.  “Why would he betray us now?”

“I don’t know,” the fairy replied.  “For all I know, he might have been in her service the entire time, and his curse might never have actually been broken.  It might have all been a ruse to draw us all in.  Or his curse might actually be broken and he has chosen to ally with the Black Fairy anyway.  There is no way to know for sure.”

“ _You_ said his curse was broken,” Snow said.

“And I may have been mistaken.  There are great powers at work here, Snow, and I am not infallible,” was the immediate answer.  The admission sounded contrite, but David’s hackles came up, anyway, even if he didn’t know why.  “But we have time, now, just enough of it to gather our forces.  I _am_ here to help, as I should have before.  We must stop Rumplestiltskin before we can even hope to stop my sister.  She will send him after all of us, and after Henry.”

Snow’s hand went cold inside David’s own.  “Henry’s at the Dark Castle.”

“I know, and that is why we have no time to waste.  I cannot enter the castle, not now, and that means it is up to you to rescue him.”

“Wait a minute,” David cut in.  “This doesn’t make any sense.  Rumplestiltskin might be a lot of things, but Henry’s his grandson, too.  He’s not going to hurt him.”

“He might not have a choice,” Snow pointed out grimly.  “Not if he’s the Dark One once more.”

“I’m not buying that for a moment.”

“If you hesitate, it will be too late.  Rumplestiltskin and my sister will be unbeatable if we do not stop him first,” Blue replied earnestly.  “We must stop him in order to save Henry.  And if what I previously suspected is correct and his curse _is_ broken—and he is with the Black Fairy by choice—you have the means to do that, David.”

That made him blink.  “What?”

“You have Excalibur,” the Blue Fairy pointed out.  “And Excalibur can kill him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up – Chapter 47: “Into the Storm”, in which David and Snow respond to Blue, Rumplestiltskin deals with his unexpected visitors, and Maleficent pulls a fast one.


	48. Into the Storm

**_Chapter Forty-Seven—“Into the Storm”_ **

 

“You have Excalibur,” the Blue Fairy pointed out.  “And Excalibur can kill him.”

For a long moment, David could do nothing but stare, unable to believe that he’d heard Blue say that.  She wanted him to try to kill _Rumplestiltskin?_   Even if the former Dark One had still been their enemy, doing so would have been next to impossible, given the amount of magic the sorcerer still had.  Granted, he probably could get close without Rumplestiltskin thinking that he meant him any harm, but… Even the thought of perpetrating that sort of betrayal made David’s blood run cold.

“You can’t be serious,” David finally managed to say, his throat growing tighter with anger by the moment.

“I’m afraid I am, Your Majesty,” the fairy replied earnestly, but as apologetic as her tone _tried_ to come off, there was nothing regretful in her expression.  Nothing at all.  The calculation in her eyes was too plain, too clever.

“This is insane,” Snow cut in, her eyes suddenly rock hard.  “Blue, I have trusted you for my entire life.  I have believed in you when others told me I should not.  But now you are telling me that we should betray a man who has been a loyal ally, who has risked his life more than once for our cause—and who is our grandson’s other grandfather.  Rumplestiltskin is _family._ ”

“Snow, you _cannot_ allow an accident of birth to define—”

“The hell we can’t,” David interrupted, coming back on balance.  “Family is family.  And even if he wasn’t, we don’t betray our friends.  Period.”

“Even if you’re right, Blue, and he is the Dark One once more, I do not believe he would willingly ally with the Black Fairy,” Snow picked up where he left off.  “You forget, we worked with Rumplestiltskin when he was the Dark One.  We can work with him again.  And we will.”

Blue’s eyes narrowed, and David felt his own doing the same—except for in him, the expression was borne of suspicion whereas hers obviously came from something else entirely.  David wasn’t sure what Blue’s plan was, or what in the world she thought she might accomplish by trying to get him to kill Rumplestiltskin, but he was certain that none of this was going to turn out well.  And, somehow or another, Rumplestiltskin had transitioned from irksome and dangerous ally to family.  Perhaps even to a friend.  Oh, they had to accept him for who he was, but David was fine with that.

“You _cannot_ trust him.  We have one chance to stop him, and—”

“There is no _we,_ Blue.”  David’s voice grew as sharp as Excalibur.  “You already told us that you won’t help us, except on your terms.  And we don’t accept these terms.”

 

****************

 

Rumplestiltskin supposed that he’d accept nothing less than three fae having interrupted his second attempt at a marriage proposal, so it was a good thing that four of them had shown up.   He didn’t know the names of many fae at all, but they didn’t matter—he recognized the one that actually mattered, and it was Jhudora.  She seemed to be angling for a spot as Danns’ newest favorite now that Norco was dead, which probably explained why she was here.  The white-haired female fae stood right outside the castle gates with a predatory smile on her face, clearly preparing to take the wards on.  Rather like Norco, she had enjoyed _preparing_ Rumplestiltskin for Danns’ attentions.  She wasn’t quite as psychotic as Norco had been, but Jhudora was a close second, and Rumplestiltskin was willing to bet that the four fae Danns had sent with her were the same type.  If they got into the castle, if they got to his family, Rumplestiltskin knew that Belle, Bae, and Emma would be treated the same way he had been, or worse.  Only Henry would survive, and that was only because Danns could not chance the Heart of the Truest Believer transitioning to an unknown individual.

And if he’d had no ability to use his magic, these four fae would have had an easy time of breaking into his castle and delivering him back to Danns.  So, far as Jhudora knew, her confidence was well founded.  That was probably why she was laughing when Rumplestiltskin stepped outside the castle’s front doors, heading across the courtyard with Henry and Belle slightly behind him. 

Bae and Emma stood together midway between the castle proper and the outer gates, watching as Jhudora and her three companions took on his wards.   Powerful though they were, the four fae were still struggling to overcome the outer layers of defenses.  Of course, many of those defenses actually predated Rumplestiltskin, given that he’d taken the Dark Castle from another dark sorcerer, who had inherited it from someone who had taken it from yet a third magic user.  Perhaps the castle was older than that and the records Rumplestiltskin could find simply didn’t go so far back, but either way, the layers upon layers of defenses answered only to the castle’s master.  Even had he _not_ been able to perform magic and monitor the weak points the fae were exploiting, the wards would have held for days yet.  _Maybe longer, if these four don’t get help.  They’re powerful, but even the fae have limits._

Rumplestiltskin smiled slightly.  Part of him wanted to make a show of kicking back and relaxing, let Jhudora and her companions beat themselves into exhaustion.  But was doing so worth the risk?  That would probably just bring Danns here, and although he felt confident that he could take on these four—particularly with the help of Emma and the castle’s defenses—he didn’t feel up to duking it out with the Black Fairy.  Not today.  Not when he was still tired and achy, still suffering from the aftereffects of a week in Danns’ care.  Unless…

“Well?” Emma demanded as he stepped up beside Bae.  “Now what?”

“Well, we can fight them,” Rumplestiltskin said, and then smiled mischievously.  “Or we can do something else.”

“Such as?” the savior sounded fed up already.

“Yeah, now’s not the time for you to play mystery man, Pop,” Bae put in.  “We kinda need answers.  And to do something.”

Rumplestiltskin blinked.  “We?”

“I’ve got to embrace this magic thing sooner or later, right?” his son replied with a shrug.

“Ah, not on this one,” he answered, even if he was near to bursting with pride.  There had once been a time when Rumplestiltskin knew his son would have accepted nothing to do with magic, and yet here he was, volunteering to learn it here and now.  Still, rushing Bae into this would be beyond foolish, and Rumplestiltskin was no fool.  Nor would he risk his son like that.  “You’ll do more harm than good, Bae.  Uncontrolled magic is dangerous.”

“But—”

“The wards can handle these four,” he cut him off gently.  “And what they can’t, Emma and I can manage just fine.  You have to walk before you can run, Bae.  Anything else is as likely to hurt you as it is the enemy.”

An interesting expression whipped across his son’s face, culminating in a somewhat crooked smile.  “This isn’t just you trying to protect me, is it?”

“Not just, no.”

Saying that Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t give anything to keep his son safe would have been a straight out lie, but in this case, there was at least he had logic to back him up, along with years of experience teaching magic.  He wasn’t going to rush Baelfire into learning magic—no matter how he’d thrown Regina off the deep end (more than once) and used the trial-by-fire method of teaching for her, Bae wasn’t the type to learn that way.  _And_ he wouldn’t have thrown Regina into a fight like this, either, not this early on and certainly not into a battle against the fae.  Bae didn’t look happy with his father, but at least he didn’t seem to disbelieve him…and that meant they really had come a long way. Finally, Baelfire shrugged and stepped back. 

“Okay.  Guess it’s your show, then,” he said to Rumplestiltskin and Emma, taking Henry by the shoulder and moving a dozen feet away from the two sorcerers.  Belle joined the pair after giving Rumplestiltskin a nod and a slight smile.  Did she realize that he’d been about to ask her to marry him?  This was no time to wonder.

The savior, of course, glared at him, although her expression seemed to hold little actual rancor.  “Why do I always wind up fighting _with_ you when I’d rather punch you in the face?” she asked conversationally.

“Believe me, the feeling is sometimes mutual,” he muttered, but felt a smile quirking at his lips.

“Only sometimes?” Emma shot back.

“I’m well known for my patience,” Rumplestiltskin assured her, but their verbal sparring was interrupted by Jhudora before Emma could reply.

“Are you going to talk all day, Rumplestiltskin, or are you too much of a coward to come out and face us?” the fae demanded, her eyes glowing silver and vicious.

At least they’d stopped calling him Merlin.  That had to count for something.

“If I thought you were much of a conversationalist, dearie, I’d invite you up for tea,” he replied, pitching his voice high enough to be heard over the wind her stirring magic was starting to create.  “But I know you’re not much for words—though I wonder, is that a lack of intelligence, or just a small vocabulary?”

A wave of furious magic slammed into his wards, and Rumplestiltskin felt the power tingle up his spine.  It couldn’t hurt him, not like this, but he’d still feel every blow.  In his current condition, he probably shouldn’t allow such things to continue for too long.  Did Jhudora guess that?  _She should._ Rumplestiltskin had slipped on a slight glamour after walking out of his castle, and had done it in a place that he knew a clever fae would spot him doing so.  Of course, they could be pardoned for thinking that he pulled up that glamour to hide a multitude of weaknesses.  Maybe he had, a little.  Rumplestiltskin was still weaker than he wanted to be, drained of strength and with his magic still raging against having been caged.  But he mostly pulled it up to distract them.

“You’ll not be so flippant when I deliver you back to my lady!” Jhudora shouted furiously.

Norco had been more playful and much more controlled. Jhudora was a creature of passion and rage, not unlike Regina had been, but also not the type who Danns would tolerate as her right hand for long.  This was a test, then, for both Jhudora and Rumplestiltskin.   If Jhudora could take him, she’d earned her place.  If _he_ could destroy her, he was indeed that which Danns both hoped and feared he would become.  _“Why limit yourself when you could be extraordinary?”_ Danns had asked him. _“You are now an original power, Rumplestiltskin.  You are the first human to possess that power in over fifteen hundred years.  Will you waste it in years of torment when you know I will win in the end?”_   Yes, she was testing both of them.  But why show his hand so soon?

Perhaps he could sidestep this game entirely.  Had he not spotted the third “fae” standing behind Jhudora, perhaps Rumplestiltskin would not have decided on this course of action, but that was Maleficent smiling back there, still wearing that absurd horned headdress that she liked so much.  Could she be trusted to pick up the hint if he put it down?  Maleficent had always been clever, but they’d never been friends.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t quite sure she’d do what he wanted…but even if she didn’t, the gamble he’d just decided upon wouldn’t cost him much.  He’d just have to kill Jhudora and the others later instead—and the sudden vision that flashed in front of his eyes, the pair of possibilities hovering before him, told Rumplestiltskin that probably wouldn’t be necessary.  Not today.

“Come back when you can break through my wards, and then we’ll talk,” he told the fae with a derisive snort, reaching out with a cautious touch of magic to make sure they were still holding firm.  Jhudora had destroyed the outermost—and weakest—layer, and Maleficent appeared to have picked apart a second one with the help of the female fae to her right, but the hundreds of other layers and levels of protections remained intact.

“Come out here and face me!” the fae howled in response.

“No.”

“ _What?_ ” she snarled.  “You coward!  You—”

“Come and make me, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin waved a hand flippantly at his castle, smiling the smile he _knew_ got under people’s skin and singing out the next words as he turned away: “I’ll be waiting.”

 He didn’t say another word until he was back in the castle, and certainly didn’t pay any mind to Jhudora’s screeches of protest.  The fae was mortally offended by the way he’d just up and decided to ignore her; the furious noises coming from outside the gates made that perfectly clear.  That, in turn, told Rumplestiltskin that he had done the right thing—oh, he could jump into the fight she was picking, but why bother?  Why play into Jhudora’s hands?  No, he had a better way to do this, and even if Maleficent _didn’t_ do her part as well as Rumplestiltskin had Seen she would, he had nothing to lose.

“You’re certifiable, you know that?” Emma said after the heavy doors slammed shut behind them, sealing with magic.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled, feeling the wards shimmer and twitch as the fae attacked them once more.  The pressure was building, but it wasn’t even painful.  Yet.  “You’re not the first who’s told me that.”

“Too bad it doesn’t stop you,” she grumbled, exchanging a look with Bae. 

“What are we going to do about the fae, Rumple?” Belle spoke up, and he reached out to take her hand, his smile turning less predatory just from looking at her.  As always, Rumplestiltskin felt Belle’s mere presence softening him, felt his heart filling with love for her.

“We’re going to leave them there,” he answered simply.  “Let them beat themselves against the defenses.  Sooner or later, they’ll leave.”

“You sure about that?” Bae asked skeptically.

“More or less.”

“What happens if they don’t?” Henry wondered.

How was it that his grandson could also make him soften so?  Rumplestiltskin was quite certain that it had something to do with his curse having been broken, but his soul was stained enough that the fact that Henry _could_ have such an effect on him still amazed Rumplestiltskin. 

“They will,” he promised.  And if they don’t, we’ll deal with them.”

Henry’s grin was brilliant.  “Okay.”

 

****************

 

“Are you going to be my mama?” a small voice asked moments after Regina stepped into her boudoir in the Charmings’ castle. 

She’d turned the private room over to Roland shortly after they’d arrived, letting Robin make it into a playroom of sorts for his almost five year old son.  After all, Regina could claim plenty of space as the Dowager Queen she was now styled as, and Robin’s rooms were right next to hers.  A quiet reminder to Snow and Charming that Robin technically _was_ Earl of Locksley accomplished that little miracle, and although she’d been expecting to find Robin and Roland in her boudoir when she arrived, Regina certainly hadn’t expected a question like _this._

“Oh, um, sweetie…” Regina gulped, and then managed to continue: “That’s a complicated question.”

Robin looked up at her innocently from where he’d been sitting next to his son on the floor.  “I don’t know.  It sounds pretty simple to me.”

“You’re not helping.”  She snapped at him out of habit, but softened her annoyance with a smile.

“I’ll admit that I wasn’t trying to,” he grinned back, but Roland only looked the pair of them in confusion.

“Papa?” the child asked innocently, and Robin mussed his hair affectionately.

“Don’t worry about it, munchkin,” he said.  “Regina and I’ll talk about the answer to your question, and then we’ll talk to you, all right?”

Roland nodded solemnly.  “All right.”  Then he turned a sunny smile on Regina.  “I like you a lot.  So does Papa.”

“I like you both, too,” Regina replied, unable to stop herself from melting a little inside. 

How was it that, despite all the evil she had done in her life, she had somehow found something like _home_ with this outlaw and his adorable child?  Sometimes Regina thought back on the life she might have had if she’d been brave enough to meet Robin that night Tink had shown him to her, but other times she thought things had turned out exactly how they were supposed to be.  If she hadn’t run from him then, she wouldn’t have cast the curse, wouldn’t have adopted Henry, and although then _Roland_ might be her child, where would Henry be? 

“I missed you,” Roland interrupted her thoughts, and Regina bent to pick him up, wrapping her arms around the boy. 

“You know what?” she asked, meeting his smile with her own.  “I missed you, too.”

“Good,” Roland replied with another nod.  “That’s good.”

 

****************

 

“We’re wasting our time,” Maleficent told Jhudora, knowing that the fae wouldn’t listen, not yet, anyway.  But when Jhudora—or one of the others—came to her senses, she would remember that Maleficent had said it first.  They were fair in their own way, the fae, and more so than the fairies Maleficent had left so long ago.  Ruthlessly so, actually, which meant the others would remember who had been right.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the white-haired fae snapped. “No wards can hold forever.  It’s only a matter of time.”

“And a matter of the power you are capable of bringing to bear against them,” she pointed out with an eloquent shrug.  “And I think it would take many more of us _much_ more time than we have to break through the wards assembled by an original power.”

Vidia spoke up in response to that: “Our Lady does not think Rumplestiltskin has fully harnessed the powers available to him yet.”

“Then she’s wrong.”  Three heads snapped around to stare at Maleficent, who just shrugged again.  She’d made her reputation amongst the fae by not caring what others thought of her—except Vidia, who would forgive her this—so she only smiled thinly at their shock. “I’ve known Rumplestiltskin since shortly after he became the Dark One.  He is _not_ like his predecessors, and I suspect that he was subconsciously accessing the power all along.”

“That’s impossible,” Jhudora said immediately.

“I doubt it,” she purred.  “A man who could take on _that_ curse, and then continue to love his son after doing so, so much that he tore a _world_ apart to get back to him…well, now that’s the kind of man who has thoroughly embraced whatever power is available to him, whenever it is available.  We won’t break through his wards.  Not like this.”

“Shut up and do your part.”

“Oh, _gladly_ ,” Maleficent smiled widely.  This silly attempt was going to fail, but she was perfectly all right with that.  Returning in disgrace would only humiliate Jhudora and undermine her standing with the Black Fairy, and Maleficent would gleefully watch that happen.  Her original mission in infiltrating the fae had been to feed Regina and the others information about what the enemy was up to, but if she could start fracturing them from the inside…well, that was just a bonus, wasn’t it?

Truth be told, Maleficent had wondered more than once in the beginning if she might decide that she _liked_ being with the fae and be tempted to swap sides despite her friendship with Regina.  But after living with them for a few weeks, Maleficent found herself reminded of everything she’d hated about being a fairy.  Yet again, she lived within a hierarchy that demanded she act this way and not that way, that she love only certain people and hate others.  Maleficent had split with Blue and the rest because they would not let her be _herself_.  She had found quickly that the fae were no better than her own original sisters, so why should she care if Jhudora and the others failed?  Vidia was the only fae she gave a fig for, and Maleficent was already planning on how to keep her lover safe.  Vidia might not thank her for it…but Maleficent was starting to think that Vidia might not mind so much, either.

 

****************

 

The idea of sitting down to lunch when there were fae beating at the castle’s wards was more than a little surreal, even for a man who was the son of the former Dark One.  Bae had seen a lot of strange things in his life, between his dad taking on that curse, living in Neverland for a couple of centuries, growing up in the Land Without Magic, and the last year-plus of war, but this really did take the cake.  By now, four hours after the fae had first shown up, Bae could _feel_ the castle starting to quiver ever so slightly—but that was wrong.  Like it or not, he could feel the wards around the castle, the magic permeating every wall and each individual stone…and he could feel them shaking ever so slightly.  It was like they were bending, bouncing back, and then bending again. 

The feeling was enough to take Bae’s breath away.  Had using just that little bit of magic to help his father opened up his senses so much?  Yeah, he’d felt magic a few times, more recently than ever before, but it had never been like this.  _Using_ magic was very different than feeling it, and Bae now understood why Emma was starting to enjoy magic so much.  It was…not quite addictive, but the feeling certainly was heady.  Extraordinary.  And for the first time, Bae really understood why his father would never be able to let magic go.

_Man, I really wish I could go back in time and tell myself all of this,_ he thought _. It would probably save us both a lot of pain and discontent._

Speaking of which, was his father starting to twitch when particularly hard blows came against the wards?  Bae wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Are they gone yet?” Henry asked, his mouth full of turkey.

“No,” Emma replied, annoyance clear in her voice.  Then she looked at Bae. “Is it just me, or is this about as weird as it comes?”

“No, it’s not just you,” he replied with a grin.  “But hey, we’ve done weird before, right?”

“Dragons and demons and chimeras, oh my?” she said wryly. 

Bae laughed.  Damn, he loved this woman, loved the way her crooked sense of humor complimented his own.  “Something like that, yeah.”

“Do you ever think that this has to be some wacked out dream, and we’re all really still back in Storybrooke—or worse yet, sleeping in the bug?  That we’ll wake up and steal some Twinkies from yet another convenience store, with me pretending to be pregnant to distract them so you can grab the good stuff?”

“You robbed convenience stores?”  Of course, Henry jumped on that comment immediately, and Bae could see Emma mentally kicking herself.

“It’s a long story, bud,” he answered with a sigh, and then exchanged a glance with his own father.  “I guess crappy decision making runs in the family, huh?”

Rumplestiltskin quirked a smile.  “I don’t know.  I think you’re doing all right.”

“What are you—oh.”  Bae felt his face go hot when his father threw a significant glance Emma’s way.  “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” his father replied innocently.

“Am I missing something?” Henry asked, making Belle snort out a giggle.  “Oh.  Wait.  Grandpa means _Mom._   That’s so cool.”

Emma glared.  “You three are way too much alike.  I swear that I’m gonna—”

The dull noise filled the great hall, vibrating through the air and in Bae’s very bones.  The wards shimmered under the blow, reverberating like a hammer striking rubber.  They bounced back, of course, but this time Bae didn’t miss the way his father flinched.  The first few times had been slight, but this time it was noticeable—and then the blow _after_ that one sent an even louder _thud_ echoing through the castle.  Rumplestiltskin twitched hard.

“You’re feeling that, aren’t you, Papa?” he asked, watching the color fading out of his father’s face.

“The wards are my magic,” Rumplestiltskin replied with a strained shrug.  “Or at least most of them are.  If I was…a bit less worn down, it wouldn’t be a problem.  As is, I can’t block it out.”

“It’s hurting you, isn’t it?” Belle put a hand on his arm as she spoke quietly, and Bae could feel the love she was radiating for his father.  They really were quite extraordinary together; Belle wasn’t the type that Bae would have _ever_ expected his father to fall in love with, but man, she was good for him.  Someday she’d even be his stepmother, and Bae would be very happy for that.  _Assuming Papa ever gets around to asking her._

“It’s nothing to worry about.”

The look Belle gave him spoke volumes, and Bae would have smiled if the situation were less serious.  Belle didn’t even have to say a word.  She just raised her eyebrows and waited patiently.

“Not much,” Rumplestiltskin relented before too long.  “Nothing…insurmountable.  The wards will hold.”

“Can one of us do something about it?” Interestingly enough, Emma asked that before Bae could.  Of course, he remembered what his father had said about untrained magic, but still, there had to be _something_ he could do.  Or one of them could. 

“It doesn’t always work that way, Emma,” his father said, smiling with a surprising lack of sarcasm.  “All magic comes at a price.  This one is mine to pay.”

“My book said you were always good at avoiding that,” Henry piped up.

That made Bae’s father chuckle.  “So I was.  I became quite adept at pushing the price off on others as the Dark One, but things are different now.  I suppose… _I’m_ different now.”

“Because of Merlin’s power?”

Another blow, another flinch.  Bae watched his father turn still whiter, each breath growing more shallow.  Yet he still managed to smile at Henry, somehow, and suddenly Bae was reminded of how his father would _always_ smile for him when he was younger, no matter how much life beat him down.  In those days, there’d rarely been much to smile for, but Rumplestiltskin had still done it for Bae.  They had never had much, not when Bae was growing up, but he had never lacked for love.

“Something like that,” Rumplestiltskin answered his grandson.  “The greater magics have the ability to change you if you let them, Henry.  And this power that I…inherited demands that I change.”

“Could you have said no?” Henry wondered, and Bae watched a fascinating expression cross his father’s face.  Clearly, Rumplestiltskin had never so much as wondered about that himself, and now Bae found himself waiting with baited breath for the answer.

“I don’t know,” his father answered after a moment, his face pensive.  “I never tried.”

“Do you want to?”

Rumplestiltskin’s pale face creased with a genuine smile, and Bae realized that his father was at peace with his choices for the first time in centuries. “No.  Not for a moment.”

 

****************

 

She had not expected this, but she should have.

Danns' a'Bhàis sighed, watching her four fae trek back into their homeland—well, three fae and one renegade fairy-turned-evil sorceress, who thought she was smarter than she actually was.  But they were all hers at the moment, and so was their failure.  Oh, Danns had always known that Jhudora was hot-headed and short on strategy, but she had assumed that Jhudora’s power—combined with that of Vidia, Maleficent, and Yara—would be enough to defeat a seriously weakened Rumplestiltskin.  Even if he _had_ been able to find someone to get the bands off, which Danns doubted he could do on such short notice, he would need healing.  Healing himself would leave him still weaker, and she’d left hundreds of traps inside him.  He would need _weeks_ to free himself from her hold, and Danns did not intend to give him that long.

Yet Jhudora had failed.  _I should have gone myself._   Jhudora had been defeated by Rumplestiltskin’s _wards_ , of all things, by the defenses of his castle without even getting into a battle with him! Oh, Vidia had told Danns that they were all certain that Rumplestiltskin had been using some sort of glamour, but Vidia had been sure that the spell had been his, whereas Jhudora had wondered if it might belong to that sorcerer-princess.  _Emma._   Storybrooke’s savior.  Emma was another interesting wrinkle, one Danns had not foreseen.  She’d known about the girl, of course, but she had not anticipated her alliance with Rumplestiltskin.  News that Emma was the mother of Rumplestiltskin’s grandson had been slow in arriving, and only now did Danns begin to contemplate the ramifications of Rumplestiltskin’s family ties.  He was not Merlin…and he had allegiances other than those she would choose for him. 

Still, that was not the point.  The point was that Rumplestiltskin had bested Jhudora, and Danns had not expected that.  Not right now.  Not so easily, and not after what she had done to him.

_“You didn’t beat him.  Merlin loved you so much that_ he let you win _.  It wasn’t the pain that broke him, dearie.  It was you causing it.”_  

Shaking her head, the Black Fairy pushed the words aside.  She had heard them once.  She did not need to hear them again.  Merlin was clearly gone, and Rumplestiltskin was the opponent she had to deal with.  Like it or not, the last Dark One had become an original power, and Danns _still_ wasn’t certain what type of man he was or what he would do with those powers.  She had tortured him twice, stripped him down to the barest dredges of his soul, and she still didn’t know him.  Danns had seen him terrified, nearly broken, and yet he kept finding strength somewhere.  Rumplestiltskin was an oddly resilient man for one who thought of himself as a coward.

And he was tired to these people, these humans, in ways she had not anticipated.  Before, it hadn’t mattered—not when she’d expected Merlin to pull the gloves off eventually and to abandon those who had once been allies and family of the man whose body she _thought_ he inhabited.  But no.  Now she was only dealing with Rumplestiltskin, a man who personified contradiction.  How would he use this power he had?  _Had_ he already done so, subtly used it within his wards to best Jhudora, as Maleficent seemed to believe?  Maleficent knew him well enough, and even if the former fairy’s motives were questionable, Danns could use her knowledge.  She would have to.  It was time to learn everything she could about this new opponent of hers, about this man who had somehow _escaped_ her hold by using her own magic.  _Whatever else he is, he is brilliant.  I must not underestimate him again,_ she told herself firmly. 

Danns had to admit that she was fascinated.  She had not expected to be interested in a mere human, not again.  Merlin had been the last human who had been worth her time, and yet there was Rumplestiltskin, clever and powerful and entirely too tricky.  He was subtle where Merlin had been straightforward, quiet where Merlin was loud, but it wasn’t the power that drew her in.  No…he was _different_ , and she wanted to know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up – Chapter 48: “The Third Time is…” where the Grand Council convenes and Rumplestiltskin gets frustrated beyond words by interuptions.
> 
> In the meantime, do you think that the Black Fairy is onto Maleficent? And will Robin and Regina get hitched, or is it too soon?


	49. The Third Time Is...

**_Chapter Forty-Eight—“The Third Time Is…”_ **

 

She was sleeping so soundly that Rumplestiltskin couldn’t bear to wake her up, even if Belle had asked him the night before not to let her sleep in.  But the look on her face was so beautifully peaceful, so relaxed, that he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, let alone disturb her.  Rumplestiltskin _had_ planned on getting up early, gathering the few things he wanted from his work room, and then eating a quiet breakfast with Belle while Bae took care of Emma and Henry.  He’d had it all planned out, carved out a few moments when he was certain that he could propose without suffering an interruption…and now here he was, ruining it all because he couldn’t make himself wake her up as planned.

He must have needed sleep, however, because Rumplestiltskin drifted back off with Belle in his arms, only to wake up when the banging on their bedroom door became so insistent that they could no longer ignore it.

“Hmmm?” Belle mumbled groggily, her head still buried against his chest.  Groaning, Rumplestiltskin blinked his eyes open, staring blankly at the ornately carved ceiling while coherency crept in through the fog of sleep.

He’d always hated that ceiling, but had never bothered to replace it with something else.  It wasn’t really _ugly_ , just a little too fancy for his tastes, and…

_Bang. Bang. Bang.  BANG!_

“Papa?” Bae’s voice drifted through the door, sounding worried.  And not for the first time, Rumplestiltskin realized, belatedly.  Before he could open his mouth to answer his son, the door suddenly opened.  “Everything okay?”

“We were _sleeping,_ Bae,” Belle pointed out plaintively, her voice as close to a whine as Belle’s voice ever was.

“Everything’s fine, Bae.” Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly, glancing at his love.  Thank goodness that they were clothed; otherwise, he had no doubt that Bae would have been wearing an expression that was a far cry from the smile currently on his face.

“Great to hear.  We are trying to, uh, _leave_ , you know,” his son said bluntly, leaning on the doorframe.  “Did you two miss that memo, or did you just forget to set your alarm clock?”

“No alarm clocks here,” Belle mumbled, her eyes closing again.  She’d really never been a morning person, Rumplestiltskin knew; in fact, Belle had been a terrible maid in that respect.  He’d _always_ gotten up earlier than her, but somehow Rumplestiltskin hadn’t minded that, even in the early days.  Not that he’d slept much as the Dark One, anyway.  He’d often spun all night, trying to avoid dreams and nightmares both.

“We’ll be with you in a few,” he said as reasonably as he could, shooting his son a look that he hoped would shoo Baelfire out of the room.

It earned him a shrug, at least.  “Sure.  Emma, Henry, and I will be waiting.”

“You could go on ahead without us,” Rumplestiltskin pointed out hopefully.  “Emma can take you there.”

“Not a chance.  If we don’t drag you along, you’ll cop out.  I know that the _last_ place you want to go is to a meeting of the Grand Alliance with the Charmings, Pop, but you know it’s necessary.   Even if it’s going to be—”

“Endless political arguments that I don’t want to participate in and am not invited to participate in?” he cut Bae off, his good mood souring at the thought.  Much though he’d spent decades manipulating politicians, Rumplestiltskin rather hated politics.  He had no desire to sit around and listen to a bunch of royals argue with one another, and even _less_ desire to listen to the Blue Fairy tell them all about how much good she was doing.

Of course, the fact that Blue was going pretty much solidified the fact that Rumplestiltskin _would_ attend, no matter how little he wanted to, particularly since the Grand Council was being held in Snow and Charming’s castle.  He couldn’t, wouldn’t, trust Ruel Ghorm to give up her quest for Henry’s heart—after all, Rumplestiltskin knew from personal experience that she was willing to sacrifice a child’s future to suit her concept of serving the ‘greater good’.  Even having been reunited with his son didn’t lessen the burn of the way Blue had given Baelfire a magic bean with no explanation.  She hadn’t cared about Bae’s safety or happiness; she’d only wanted to get him out of the Enchanted Forest to suit her _needs._   Blue hadn’t cared about the fourteen year old who her actions—and Rumplestiltskin’s cowardice, certainly—had hurt.  She’d only cared about the ‘greater good’.

Rumplestiltskin was an expert on using others for his own purposes, but at least he _owned up_ to what he’d done.  Yes, he’d made Regina into a monster to make sure his curse was cast.  Yes, he’d inadvertently fed Zelena’s rapid envy until she became utterly unredeemable.  Yes, he’d manipulated Snow, Charming, and a host of others to make sure Emma would be born and able to cast the curse.  But he’d never stood up and tried to tell those people that they were better off because of his actions.  Even _he_ wasn’t that egotistical.

“I thought you said that you needed to be there,” his son interrupted his irritated musings, and Rumplestiltskin sighed.

“I did.  And I will.  I just don’t have to be happy about it.”

“See you in a bit, then?” Bae asked.  “When you two are, uh, more decent?”

“You’re one to talk,” Belle muttered mutinously, making Rumplestiltskin look over at her curiously.  She’d finally pulled her face out of the protective shelter of his chest to throw Bae a very significant glance.  Clearly there was a story there, because Rumplestiltskin’s son blushed.

“So not the same thing,” he protested.

Belle snorted. “No, it’s not.  _We_ have clothes on.”

“Is there something I missed?” Rumplestiltskin couldn’t stop himself from asking, his eyebrows going up as his eyes danced with mirth. 

“No!” his son replied immediately, backing out of the doorway in a hurry.  “I’ll be downstairs.”

The door slammed shut again, and Belle giggled, her body shaking as she snuggled against Rumplestiltskin once more.  “How long do you think we have before he comes back?”

The laugh that tore out of Rumplestiltskin surprised him; he loved Belle’s naughty side, infrequent though it came out.  “At least an hour,” he replied with a grin, leaning in to kiss her. 

“Shall we try to traumatize your son, then?” Belle smiled back, blue eyes gleaming mischievously. 

Her hands were already slipping inside his night shirt; it was obvious that Belle knew what Rumplestiltskin’s answer would be.  Chuckling slightly, he just wrapped his arms around her and feeling more alive than he had during the week that had passed since the fae had stopped beating on his wards.  Healed though he’d been, it had taken his magic and his body some time to recover from what Danns had done to him; Rumplestiltskin had been so _tired_ all the time, and yet unable to sleep well through the nightmares.  Yet Belle knew him so well; she knew when to wait and when to press, and knew when her touch and her smile could banish all of his demons.

They did, however, make it downstairs before Bae sent Henry up to get them the next time.  Barely.  That Belle and Rumplestiltskin emerged bathed and fully clothed was a good thing, because Rumplestiltskin’s grandson met them on the stairs, bouncing with excitement over the fact that he’d learned Regina was back from Wonderland.  Rumplestiltskin had to admire his son’s deviousness in sending his _own_ child after his father; they both knew that Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t tease Henry the way he’d tease Bae, and neither would Belle.

“Never forget this valuable lesson, lad,” Rumplestiltskin told his confused grandson.  “Your father is far trickier than he wants people to believe he is.”

“Doesn’t that run in the family?” Henry countered.

Rumplestiltskin laughed, exchanging a glance with Belle.  She was glowing happily, her hand wrapped in his, and he almost asked her to marry him on the spot, even if he was looking for a more private and more romantic moment.  “Indeed it does, Henry.  Indeed it does.”

 

****************

 

It was nice to be home, even if Emma hadn’t missed the hustle and bustle of a royal castle that served as the administrative hub for two different kingdoms.  In that respect, being at the Dark Castle had been a wonderful vacation; there weren’t servants to trip over every five feet, and no one was there to watch her and judge how little Emma acted like a traditional princess.  Oh, and there hadn’t been those damned _etiquette_ lessons her mother insisted she attend (with Neal, which did make Emma laugh so hard the three times he’d been trapped into going).  Instead, she’d spent the last week learning some more magic—interesting things, this time, like how to create and counter curses and how to transform living creatures.  Much to her surprise, Rumplestiltskin seemed to genuinely enjoy teaching, and actually seemed to, well, geek out more than a little bit over magic.  Neal had started learning some of the basics, too, and the only bad part about that arrangement was that it made Henry start asking about when _he_ could learn.

Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin was the one who put his foot down on that one, and it was hard to argue with the expert when he said that _after puberty_ was absolutely not optional.  Emma wasn’t sure if she was ready to watch Henry learn magic, and she knew that Regina would kill her if she didn’t talk to her about it before allowing him to even think about learning magic.   Maybe Regina would want to teach Henry.  She probably would, which meant that Emma was so not going to get in the middle of this.  Sharing Henry was stressful enough without having something else to fight with his other mother about.

“Happy to be back?” Neal asked quietly from her side as Henry rushed up to greet Regina.   Somehow, Emma had managed to put them down not too far from her parents and the Evil Queen, much to Henry’s delight.  She was still getting used to transporting groups of people—and Neal was nowhere near ready to do it, even just for himself—which meant there’d been a moment of dizziness after they landed, but at least she’d put them where she wanted to, and the swirl of white smoke had already dissipated.

“Yeah,” she replied, taking a deep breath.  “I think I am.”

Rumplestiltskin and Belle appeared then, not too far off to the left and without so much as a hint of smoke.  _Show off._   The bastard _could_ have brought all five of them without breaking a sweat, but he’d told Emma that she needed the practice.  Though apparently he didn’t like being transported by other people, so Emma had only used her magic on Neal and Henry.

Neal gave her his signature crooked grin.  “Good thing, because it looks like you’re about to be attacked by your baby brother.”

“I am not.”  Emma rolled her eyes, but her mother _was_ approaching…with her arms full of a squealing child.  Or, perhaps _screaming bloody murder_ were better words to describe Graham, who seemed to be mortally offended by whatever it was Snow had just said to him.  Her next words came in an undertone, intended for Neal’s ears alone: “I am so not babysitting.  Not again.”

“This is where they tell you that’s what big sisters are for.”

“I don’t care.  Not babysitting.”

Neal just snickered, and damn him if Emma hadn’t heard those words a thousand times.  Her parents had armies of servants, an entire _kingdom_ of people they could get to look after Graham, but they always wanted her to do it.  Emma had no doubt that there was an entire section in one of those parenting books her mother must have smuggled back from Storybrooke (come to think of it, Regina had probably given them to her) titled ‘Making your older children look after their younger siblings’.  The stupid books probably said it was good for character development or sibling bonding or something ridiculous like that.  _Those books don’t take into account the fact that I’m my mother’s age._ She glared at Neal again—he was a convenient target, and besides, he was enjoying himself.

“Henry can babysit.  Or Regina.  That’s perfect!” Emma grinned as the solution came to her.  “Regina can do it.  _She’s_ Graham’s godmother.”

“Judging from the look on Regina’s face, she’s enjoying your mother’s suffering,” Neal pointed out, and Emma had to admit that he had a point. When Regina wasn’t busy melting over Henry, she really _did_ seem to be quietly laughing at Snow’s baby struggles.

Hell, Emma remembered feeling like that, even if she never had.  For a moment, she wondered if the false memories of raising Henry that Regina had given her had been based on Regina’s own experiences.  If so, Emma felt a little bad for her son’s other mother; Henry hadn’t been easy to bring up, even in a past that didn’t really exist.  He’d been an impossibly stalwart child, able to cry for _hours_ , and… _Or maybe Regina was just having a joke at my expense, and_ she _had an easy time with Henry._ Emma wasn’t sure if she was ever going to ask that question.  Having two sets of memories could be so confusing sometimes.  The ones that she knew were fake still felt real, particularly because of the year she and Henry had lived in New York, depending on no one but one another.

Emma stole another glance at Neal.  She’d still been angry with him when she was in New York, but now Emma was able to admit that anger had stemmed from the fact that she’d never gotten over him or stopped loving him.  She’d felt so damn abandoned when he let her go to jail.  Neal had been the first person she’d really and wholly trusted in her life, and he’d walked away because Pinocchio told him to.  _And because he wanted to give me a chance to find my family._ It didn’t really matter if Neal’s way of doing so had been more than a little messed up (did it never occur to the foolish man that he could have gone _with_ her, and she would have loved to have him there?).  He’d been scared, and he’d meant well, and Emma could forgive him for it.  She had forgiven him, somehow, and Neal had never given her cause to regret that.

“Emma!” her mother’s voice broke into her thoughts, louder than usual to be heard over Graham’s complaints.  “Welcome home!”  

David hugged her since Snow’s arms were full, and Emma felt an unrestrained smile cross her own face.  “It’s good to see you,” her father said.

“Thanks,” Emma replied.  “It’s good to be home.”

She didn’t miss the way her parents exchanged a pleased glance, but Emma hadn’t said those words by accident.  _You don't have a home until you just miss it._   Again, she found herself remembering a conversation with Neal back when they were both young and dumb kids, and Emma realized that this place, these people, really had become _home_ to her.  It was a bit insane sometimes, and other times her parents really did seem like they came straight out of a Disney movie, but she didn’t care.  This was home.

“So,” Snow began brightly, still attempting to calm Graham.  “Do you want to spend some quality time with your baby brother?”

Emma snorted.  “Good try.  Don’t you have nursemaids for that?”

“He’s your brother, Emma,” Snow wheedled.

“No way.  Did enough diaper changing last time we were here, thanks.”

“We do have things we need to discuss with Emma…” David trailed off, and Emma threw her father a grateful glance.  He grinned back, but only when Snow wasn’t looking.

“Of course,” Snow relented.  Then a mischievous smile flashed across her face.  “Baelfire?”

“Huh?” Emma’s lover jumped, his eyes going as wide as an owl’s.  He’d been looking away, but Emma had a feeling that he’d heard every word and was trying to play dumb.

Snow’s expression was all innocence.  “Would you like to take Graham for a bit?”

“I think it’s more that _you_ don’t want me to.  I’m a disaster with kids under, uh, ten or so.  Really, I am,” Neal replied earnestly.  Emma shot him a doubtful look, but he utterly ignored her.  _Sneaky bastard._  

“Well, that could pose a future problem,” David pointed out with raised eyebrows, startling Emma.

“Dad!” she yelped, the word coming out without any thought.  David loved teasing her, and he was probably doing it again, but there were times she just wanted to hit him.  It was odd how those moments made her more likely to call him ‘Dad’ than the ones she was comfortable in—but David was grinning at her again.

“What?” her father countered innocently.  “All _I_ was implying is that I’ll bet Bae’s going to wind up with younger siblings of his own before too long.  Unless I miss my guess.”

Neal groaned.  “I don’t even want to think about that, okay?  Not after this morning.”

Both of Emma’s parents looked confused, so Emma clarified once she was done snickering.  “Neal walked in on his Dad and Belle this morning.”

David laughed; Snow looked ready to choke on something.  Neal only went red and hung his head, shaking it repeatedly as if trying to clear the image away.  Emma only grinned.  Teasing him was so much fun, and Neal gave as good as he got, anyway. 

“They had clothes on, thankfully,” he grumbled, and the other three laughed. 

“Let’s go inside,” David said, raising his voice so that the others could hear him. 

Truth be told, Emma wasn’t quite sure what her parents were going to do with Belle and Rumplestiltskin has house guests (castle guests?), but she supposed that Belle would make herself useful and Rumplestiltskin would do whatever the hell he wanted, just like he always did.  Word of this Grand Council had reached the Dark Castle via messenger bird three days earlier, and Emma knew that Neal’s father hadn’t really wanted to come, but here he was…and a part of her was damn glad that he was there.  Yeah, Rumplestiltskin could still drive her mad, but he was a damn good ally to have in your corner when push came to shove, and Emma had a feeling that some of her parents’ fellow monarchs were going to make things difficult.  _Again._   And that didn’t even take into account the fact that the Blue Fairy was supposed to be coming to this fun fest, and no matter what she said, Emma knew that Blue still wanted Henry’s heart.

No, she wasn’t upset to have the wily old sorcerer along, even if it meant he’d try to teach her more magic.  Or that he’d create trouble. Rumplestiltskin could be a jerk, but he was _their_ jerk, and well, Emma had Neal along to talk sense into him when the former Dark One got too difficult.  Neal, who walked alongside her as they headed inside, his shoulder brushing against hers as they listened to Henry pepper Regina with questions about Wonderland with a fond smile.  How _had_ they come this far?  Emma didn’t know when everything between them had gone from complicated to simple, but she wasn’t arguing. 

 

****************

 

They arrived in groups, for the most part, these monarchs and world leaders, a self-important lot if there ever was one.  Mix that up with fairies, sorcerers, and other magical beings, and it created a powder keg just _waiting_ to go off.  Someone was going to explode before very long, despite the ease at which Snow White greeted all and sundry, somehow smoothing down ruffled feathers with a gentle smile that did nothing to hide the steel in her spine.  She and her charming co-consort somehow managed to keep anyone from erupting during the welcoming banquet, however, much to Rumplestiltskin’s surprise.  They’d also been absolutely brilliant enough to provide no seating arrangement at all, lest someone get offended by the seat they’d been offered somehow implying they were less important than someone else.  In fact, there were no seats whatsoever, only small tables placed strategically around the ballroom, where people could gather or not with the food they’d picked up from the buffet.

The entire affair had a decidedly Land Without Magic flair to it, and Rumplestiltskin had to admit he was impressed.  He still wasn’t pleased to _be_ there, of course, but he wasn’t stupid enough to allow the power brokers to start this dance without him, which meant he had to attend.  Interestingly enough, most of the royals seemed slightly more accepting of him now that he wasn’t the Dark One—unless he counted the ones he already knew were against him, like Hubert, Leah, and the dethroned George who was walking around as if this was still his castle.  But Midas, Francis, and even Eric’s father were far less uncomfortable around Rumplestiltskin now, particularly since Tink had somehow finagled _Ursula_ into rescuing Eric’s little mermaid princess and Eric’s kingdom was back on Snow and company’s side. 

Rapunzel still looked at him like he was the devil himself, but Rumplestiltskin imagined that the long-locked princess wouldn’t understand that reference, so he hid his smile behind a glass of very expensive wine, wishing it was scotch.  _What in the world am I going to do when my spirits collection from Storybrooke runs out?_ he wondered to himself.  Was there anywhere to get scotch in this world?  Rumplestiltskin the spinner had never had much taste for any particular type of alcohol, but Mr. Gold had loved a good scotch, and that preference carried over even once he woke up.  He’d learned enough about wines over the centuries to appreciate the good ones, but he really did prefer scotch.

“Something funny?” Belle asked quietly.

“Royals being self-important,” he replied with a shrug, watching George have it out with Queen Leah.  Apparently, although Leah didn’t approve of the Charmings’ alliance with Regina and Rumplestiltskin (or a host of other things they refused to do, like give away their territory for free), she didn’t apparently didn’t much care for arrogant dethroned monarchs, either. 

“Be nice,” she admonished him, and Rumplestiltskin smiled his most innocent smile. 

“Yes, dear.”

Belle swatted his arm lightly, but Rumplestiltskin saw amusement dancing in her blue eyes.  “So,” she asked lightly, “who are you going to try to intimidate first?”

 “Now why would I go and do a thing like that?  Intimidation is so…crass,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at her.  “Now, manipulation…that’s more my style.”

Belle’s laugh would never cease to make his heart race, just a little.  Yet when she looked at him like this, like he was the center of her world and she trusted him above all else, Rumplestiltskin felt both unworthy and so amazingly lucky.  It made him want to kiss her here and now, right in front of the entire assemblage and not care who saw it or what they thought.  But he knew better than to draw attention to himself in that manner; he was intentionally playing things low-key this evening, just watching instead of participating.  His game had always been the long one, and tonight was no different. 

“Intimidation or manipulation, I love you just the way you are,” Belle said, yanking his attention back to the present as she came up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.  A smile tugged at Rumplestiltskin’s lips, and he wrapped his free arm around her, not caring who saw.

Besides, anyone watching the pair of them could be excused for thinking that Rumplestiltskin’s entire attention was on the beautiful woman by his side, and he wasn’t paying a bit of attention to the world around him.  They wouldn’t be far off the truth, but he wasn’t _completely_ distracted.  Not entirely, anyway.

“And I love you,” he replied softly, pressing his forehead against hers momentarily, letting his eyes slide shut.  Once, back when he’d been the Dark One, being this close to Belle had actually had a detrimental effect on his magic, dampening it, tempering the darkness with something better.  Now, however, his feelings for her only seemed to amplify his power.

Eyes closed or not, Rumplestiltskin could feel the competing powers swirling around the room, both magic and political.  His allies had arrived as surely as the Grand Alliance’s members had, with magic users quietly filling in the gaps between royals and watching events unfold.  Regina’d hadn’t brought Jafar—Rumplestiltskin still had yet to introduce himself to the genie he knew only by reputation and was content to let the man rot in his lamp for now—but there were plenty of others there.  Iron John lurked near King Francis, whom he had apparently decided to take on as a personal project (given that John was from Francis’ kingdom, Rumplestiltskin was not surprised, although it did make him feel a flicker of pity for Thomas’ vacillating father; John was not the type to take to Danns’ interference well at all).  Lord Soulis chatted with the Lady of the Lake while a pair of rebellious fairies chatted off to the side, enduring glares from Blue’s principle assistant, the obnoxious Cyan Fairy.

_Interesting._ Apparently Tink had another convert; the Indigo Fairy trotted over to join Tinker Bell and the Sugar Plum Fairy, looking quite happy to be in their company despite her superior’s distaste.  Rumplestiltskin suppressed another smile and shifted his focus elsewhere.  Ali Baba lurked over near the buffet, flirting with Midas’ younger daughter Creüsa.  There were others, too, less powerful magic users who had come in the trains of the monarchs they supposedly served, but almost all of them answered to Rumplestiltskin in one way or another—or at least they did when it came to countering the power of the Black Fairy.  _And her sister, if it comes to that._

“You’re distracted, again,” Belle accused him playfully.  She must have caught his eyes tracking around the room, picking out those he needed to watch.

Rumplestiltskin smiled.  “Thinking.”

“About what?”

_Do it now,_ the unfamiliar voice of impulse said inside his mind, reckless and brave in ways he never was.  But he had the ring in his pocket and even if this wasn’t the romantic moment he’d originally wanted, waiting even longer would only make things worse.  Despite what the butterflies going wild in his stomach insisted, the love shining in Belle’s eyes told him that she felt the same way.  Waiting for the perfect moment was just his cowardice looking for an excuse to avoid the possibility of rejection, whereas Rumplestiltskin _knew_ Belle would not do that.

Still, old fears were hard to shake, and the habit of abandonment was almost impossible to break.  Milah had walked out on him because he wasn’t what she wanted.  Cora had ripped her heart out because power was more important to her than he had been.  But Belle was different.  She’d _always_ been different; it had just taken him so very long to actually realize that.  So he smiled for her, warmth and love welling up inside him and making Rumplestiltskin bold.

“About you, actually,” he replied softly, depositing his glass of wine on a tray held by a passing server so that he could take her hands in his own.

“Me?”  Belle looked at him quizzically, but she knew him well enough to sense the change in him, the determination to be open and honest for once in his shadowy life. 

“That shouldn’t surprise you,” Rumplestiltskin chided her, bringing her hands to his lips so he could kiss them.  Belle blushed a little, but her smile was blinding him again.  Just looking at her beautiful face made his heart skip a beat.  “I will never understand why you continue to stand by me,” he continued honestly, swallowing hard.  “Despite everything I have been and everything I have done.  I—”

“Rumple…” Belle cut him off.  She hated listening to him say things like this, he knew, but Rumplestiltskin stopped her with a shake of his head.

“Let me finish?”  If he didn’t say it now, he never would.  And a part of him wanted so badly to quit now; the coward inside him sensed a way out, but Rumplestiltskin forced himself to focus on the words he’d long been practicing.

Her smile was almost sad.  “I’m sorry.  Of course.”

“I know I’m not the best of men, Belle.  Even with my curse broken, I will never be the kind of man you deserve.  I know that, and I know that I could never hope to give you anything equal to what you give me.  But I will try.  If you’ll let—”

“Rumplestiltskin!” a cheerful voice interrupted.  “There you are.”

Irritation swelled up in him so furiously that Rumplestiltskin _almost_ reached out with dark magic to crush the offending interloper, but he managed to stop himself just in time, turning to bestow a truly exasperated glare on and entirely too innocent looking King David. 

 “Yes, I am exactly where I have been for quite some time,” he snapped.  “What _can_ I do for you, dearie?”

Charming blinked, clearly surprised by the unexpected hostility.  “I was wondering if you—and Belle, of course—might join us in the war room for a few minutes.”

“We’d be happy to,” Belle replied quickly, squeezing Rumplestiltskin’s hand as she obviously sensed his continued annoyance.  When he glanced her way, her eyes were pleading with him to be nice to the Charmings, even if the king in question was close to driving him mad. 

“Of course we would,” Rumplestiltskin grumbled, taking a few steps along with Belle before he stopped mutinously.  “In a moment.”

“Rumple…” Belle began as Charming tried to object:

“It’ll only take a few minutes.”

He shot the king another dark look and let a hard edge creep into his voice that he _knew_ no one would argue with, monarch or no, ally or not.  “In a moment, I said.”

“Of course,” Charming replied graciously.

The king was obviously as aware as Rumplestiltskin was that every eye in the ballroom was beginning to turn their way; the more important people were, the more they liked gossip, and any sort of conflict was grist for the rumor mill, and a potential weakness to exploit besides.  But Rumplestiltskin was too annoyed to care.  He’d scraped up his courage one too many times to back down now.  He’d _had_ it with being interrupted, and had damn well given up on finding the perfect moment.  _This_ was the moment he’d chosen, and the Charmings, the war, and the rest of the world could wait.  Circumstances be damned; Rumplestiltskin was going to _do_ this.  Charming started to back away as Rumplestiltskin turned back to face Belle.

“Sweetheart,” he started, his nerves suddenly trying to go haywire and making him want to hesitate, but annoyance and determination won out and Rumplestiltskin smiled wryly.  “This is hardly the time or place to ask you this, but the world seems to be conspiring to stop me, and I am done playing nice.  I love you, and I will always love you.”

Taking a deep breath, a tiny corner of Rumplestiltskin’s half-terrified mind noticed the way Belle’s eyes were beginning to shine, so he took the plunge.  Surprisingly enough, the world did not end before he managed to say the words:

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”  Belle was in his arms and kissing him almost before Rumplestiltskin knew what was happening.  “Of course I will!”

Damn them all.  He didn’t care who was watching.  Rumplestiltskin just wrapped his arms around her and kissed Belle back, vaguely aware of the fact that Charming’s expression had gone from mortified to delighted and he was now saying something in his damnably enthusiastic way.  But Rumplestiltskin didn’t hear a word of it.  His entire focus boiled down to the beautiful woman in his arms and True Love singing through his veins.  She’d said yes _._   Belle had said _yes._   All his fears melted into nothing, and Rumplestiltskin could not remember when he had ever been so happy.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Belle admitted softly, but the smile tugging on her lips kept any sting out of the words.

“I kept _trying_ ,” he grumbled, but his anger over being interrupted had flown out the window; he’d asked, and she’d said yes.  Rumplestiltskin was fairly certain he could walk on water right now, and without the aid of magic.

“How many times?” she asked, their faces still so close they were almost touching, amusement filling her blue eyes.

“It all depends on if you count the times something else came up before I could start asking, but at least three,” Rumplestiltskin said.

“Oh, Rumple.”  She kissed him again, but he pulled back after a moment, summoning the ring into his hand and holding it up for Belle to see.

“May I?”

“It’s beautiful,” Belle breathed, her eyes going wide.  Rumplestiltskin felt a shy smile crossing his face; he’d worried time and time again that she wouldn’t like it, that he should get her something more traditional, but the star sapphires really _did_ match the shade of blue in her eyes perfectly.  Belle shivered as he slipped the ring on her finger, their bodies still close and neither paying any attention to the world around them.  “It’s…magic?”

“My magic,” Rumplestiltskin replied with a nod.  “Designed to keep you safe from anyone and anything.  Even me.”

“You would never hurt me.”

He shrugged slightly. “I started it when I was still the Dark One.”

“It’s perfect,” Belle told him, kissing him once more.

Perhaps someday Rumplestiltskin would tell her that he’d made the ring.  Belle hadn’t caught what he’d meant before, probably thinking that he was referring to when he’d began crafting the protective spells on the ring, and not the ring itself.  It didn’t matter.  What mattered was that Belle had agreed to become his wife, and _nothing_ could ruin this moment.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the late update—I was down sick yesterday and didn’t even look at the computer. In the meantime, stay tuned for Chapter 49: “Live in the Moment,” where Emma does the unexpected and Henry’s status is explored.


	50. Live in the Moment

**_Chapter Forty-Nine: “Live in the Moment”_ **

 

The moment his father and Belle walked into the war room, Bae knew that Rumplestiltskin had finally managed to pop the question.  The way Belle was glowing was powerful enough to light up a thousand or so light bulbs, and even his father was smiling unrestrainedly.  Rumplestiltskin so rarely let his guard down enough to look so happy, particularly when surrounded by people Bae knew he only sometimes liked.  Usually he was reserved and guarded, but not now.  There was only one thing in the world that would make him look so joyful, and Bae stepped forward without any hesitation.

“Congratulations, Papa, Belle,” he said warmly, only to have his future stepmother wheel on him.

“You knew?” she demanded.

_Oops._ He probably should have let them announce it first, and Bae backtracked rapidly. He gulped, and tried to shift the blame with a crooked smile.  “Henry blabbed it?”

“ _Henry_ knew?” Belle echoed, turning a glare on Rumplestiltskin, whose hands came up immediately in self-defense.  Fortunately, Henry piped up before Bae’s father could dig himself into a hole.

“I kinda guessed.  And bullied Grandpa into telling me,” the thirteen year old told _his_ future step-grandmother (and wasn’t poor Henry’s family tree growing more complicated by the moment?). 

Belle scowled, but Bae could see that her annoyance was mainly for show.  “Of course you did.”  She rolled her eyes.  “The three of you are going to be the death of me.”

“I hope not,” Rumplestiltskin murmured, and Bae tried _very_ hard not to think about walking in on the two of them.  _Ugh.  What if they pull a Snow and Charming and give me a younger sibling?_   Bae really didn’t want to find out how Emma felt in such an immediate and crazy way—even if he really had always wanted to have a younger brother or sister.  Giving Henry a _second_ aunt or uncle who was younger than him would be the height of awkward, though Bae supposed that worse things had happened.

Belle was glowing again by the time Bae managed to step forward and hug her, although she did manage to whisper in his ear as David apologized to his father for interrupting and offered his own congratulations.   “Are you all right with this?” Belle asked him quietly.

Only Belle would ask, Bae knew.  Her heart was so big that she’d worry about what he thought, even if he’d made it plain time and again that he considered her family.  Bae just smiled. 

“Never better,” he replied, stepping back so that Snow could hug Belle—Snow would hug _anyone_ , after all—and Emma could offer a much more awkward but equally sincere congratulations.  

The next few minutes were taken up by their entire wacked up extended family extending an official welcome to Belle, who’d already been an unofficial member of their number.  Henry hugged her, too—and then hugged Rumplestiltskin, who seemed to take it a little better than he had the first time Bae’s son had done so, at least.  He managed to hug Henry back without looking too uncomfortable, anyway, and Bae knew that meant a lot, coming from his father.  Rumplestiltskin and Regina seemed to be eyeing one another warily, but Regina’s smile was genuine enough, and Bae thought that he saw his father shoot a significant glance at Robin that made Regina color slightly. 

Finally, however, Snow threw a look David’s way that immediately made the king clear his throat to get everyone’s attention.  Looking vaguely uncomfortable and a little hesitant—an expression very out of place on David’s face—the king began:

“Something came up earlier that made Snow and I realize that we needed to get everyone together.  I know right now probably isn’t the best time, but we couldn’t wait until after the Grand Council has ended.”

Didn’t _that_ opening serve to put everyone on edge?  Bae looked around the room curiously, watching faces that ranged from politely attentive (like Robin) to impatient (Emma) to carefully dispassionate (his father).  No one other than Snow seemed to know what David was on about, however, so it was Snow who picked up when David paused.

“Everyone here is family to Henry in one way or another,” Emma’s mother pointed out, and Bae realized that she was right.  The only person who really could be argued wasn’t family was Robin, and Regina’s feelings for the outlaw were obvious to anyone with eyes.  True Love had a way of simplifying matters, and Bae knew they’d get married eventually.  Some fathers might have been uncomfortable with the idea of the Enchanted Forest’s most legendary outlaw becoming their son’s adopted stepfather, but Bae had known Robin for a while now, and only a blind man would have failed to see what a good father Robin was for Roland.  “We all have our differences,” Snow continued.  “Some times more than others.  But this is about Henry.”

“What’s about me?” Henry predictably piped up, all curiosity and no concern.

“Prince Thomas brought the matter up to me a few weeks ago,” David replied, sighing heavily.  “Apparently, most monarchs in the Enchanted Forest—everyone but those in this room, really—consider Henry illegitimate, and thus barred from the succession.  The problem is twofold.  Firstly, since they don’t recognize Henry as legitimate, they don’t recognize him as royalty, or even, officially, as part of our family.  That means they are ‘uncomfortable’ with his presence at official events, and feel he should be excluded.”

“What?” Regina barked, stepping forward to glare at David as if any slight against Henry was his fault.  “This is—”

The Evil Queen cut off, her mouth snapping shut as furious intelligence rolled through her eyes.  Regina was anything but stupid, Bae knew, and she immediately understood what this meant.  Emma, however, did not.

“Ridiculous,” Henry’s birth mother picked up where his adopted mother left off.  “What does the fact that Neal and I aren’t married have to do with Henry?  It’s not his fault.”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Regina’s voice was hard and ice cold.  “They won’t care.  They still think he’s a bastard.”

Having known this issue was going to come up eventually, Bae was in a better place to watch the others’ reactions than most.  Emma and Regina were angry, albeit for very different reasons, but their expressions were almost identical.  Robin, to Regina’s right, looked vaguely concerned but not overly so; as a disinherited nobleman turned outlaw, he probably only saw this as an obstacle to be overcome.  Belle, at Bae’s father’s side, looked distressed and was watching Henry, who in turn appeared to be utterly stunned.

“Then I’m not a prince?” Henry asked quietly.

Henry was one of the most level-headed teenagers that Bae had ever met, but this was obviously hard on him.  He’d spent several years in Storybrooke making assumptions about the position he would have in the Enchanted Forest, and no one had ever told him otherwise.  Henry viewed his ancestral world as a place full of fairy tales come to life, not one of old-fashioned prejudices.  Worse yet, he’d grown up in a world where people were judged on their own merits instead of their birth, so listening to his grandfather say that most kingdoms viewed him as _inferior_ shocked Henry almost into silence.  His eyes were huge and lost, and Bae could tell that he didn’t know what else to say.

“Of course you are,” Emma tried to reassure him, and then looked, wide eyed, at her parents, clearly asking them to back her up.

“It’s complicated,” Snow said gently.

“No, it isn’t,” Regina cut back in.  “Not by the laws here.”  The Evil Queen turned to face her son, her voice turning compassionate.  “I won’t lie to you, Henry.  Things here aren’t like they were back in the Land Without Magic.  People are more…biased.  But it doesn’t mean anyone in here loves you less, _or_ that we won’t fight for you.”

Henry’s smile was strained, and Bae put a hand on his son’s shoulder as Henry answered: “I know that.”

“What brought this up?” Rumplestiltskin spoke up for the first time, making Bae turn to look at his father.

Clearly, Rumplestiltskin had already considered this, probably months earlier, much like Bae had.  Not a flicker of surprise showed on his features, and his voice was dead calm.  Bae could see his brilliant mind already considering options, and suddenly Bae pitied anyone who tried to ostracize Henry.  Snow and Charming were good people, and they were problem solvers.  They’d find a solution to this.  But Rumplestiltskin and Regina would deal rather harshly with anyone who was cruel to Henry.  Somewhat disturbingly, Bae found he didn’t have a problem with that.  Not at all.

“A few things,” David answered slowly.  “Like I said, Thomas mentioned it.  But more recently, the issue came up concerning Lady Sophia.”

“Who?” Emma asked even as Bae blinked.  But Regina groaned.

“Your nitwit cousin?” she asked Snow.

“She’s not a nitwit,” Snow replied a little defensively, but she didn’t look terribly put out by Regina’s comment, either.

“But she _is_ married to Lord Soulis,” David continued with a grimace.  “And Soulis’ sister is, naturally, married to King Francis’ younger brother.”

Regina snorted.  “I _told_ Leopold he should have locked that nitwit girl in a tower or something.”

“Regina!” Snow exclaimed, but several people snickered until Emma demanded: 

“Who the hell is Lady Sophia, anyway?”

“The daughter of my father’s older sister,” Snow replied with another sigh.  “Francis—and Lord Soulis, obviously, are pushing to have her position in the succession acknowledged.”

“So?” Emma frowned.  “She’d still be after Graham, right?”

“That’s second in line if you continue this stupidity of leaving yourself out,” Regina told her bluntly.  Emma glared again, but Bae could see the wheels starting to turn in her head.

“And a lot of things can happen to a kid if someone is ambitious enough,” he pointed out when no one else wanted to say it.

“And Soulis is that ambitious,” Regina added, her eyes narrowing.  “He wasn’t my mother’s star student for no reason.”

“Aren’t we getting a little far afield of how this impacts Henry?” Belle interjected before the succession discussion could continue, and Bae could have hugged her for it.  Henry was starting to look a little overwhelmed, and Emma was only looking angrier by the moment.  It was definitely time to narrow the scope of this conversation down.

“Yes and no,” David replied.  “This matters because Snow and I are not going to let anyone muddle with who inherits our kingdoms, and _we_ don’t care what anyone thinks of Henry’s birth.  He’s our grandson, no matter what.”

“That’s why we’re going to issue a decree of—” Snow started, only to be cut off by her daughter.

“Wait a minute.  You’re saying that all this crap they’re putting on Henry started because Neal and I aren’t married?”

David had the grace to look a little embarrassed.  “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Fine, then.  We’ll get married.”

_“What?_ ”  Several voices demanded, but Bae knew his was the loudest of all.  Emma turned on him.

“Don’t you want to?”

“Yes, but—” He felt like he’d been hit head on by a truck.  His brain refused to work right.  “I mean…”

Emma’s eyes met his, and Bae felt his heart do a backflip.  He loved her, had almost from the beginning.  Bae would have proposed months earlier if he thought Emma wouldn’t shy away from the idea, and not just for Henry’s sake.  And he knew that Emma wasn’t suggesting they get married solely to shore up their son’s status, either.  Bae knew Emma loved him; she just needed something to push her over the edge from time to time.  Like Bae, Emma had spent much of her life running from commitment, and breaking that habit was hard.  At least he had always had family, even if he’d been out of practice with the idea for a while.  Emma was always afraid of gaining family in case she lost it again, which was what caused her to be so wary of commitment.  A laugh bubbled up, a little crazy and yet still utterly joyful.  _This has got to be most unromantic proposal ever.  I don’t even have a ring for her yet!_

But the smile on his face was growing rapidly, doofy and happy, a grin like only Emma could draw from him.  She could see it, too, so Emma turned to her parents and asked:

“You guys got anything like Vegas in this place?”

Snow blinked.  “No…”

“ _Really?_   Could you get any _less_ romantic?” Regina rolled her eyes as Henry bounced excitedly.

“You guys are going to get _married_?” their son demanded.  “That’s so cool!  Now if Mom and Robin do that, it’ll make everything perfect!”

Regina’s eyes went huge.  “Henry, I…”

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like, bud,” Bae rescued Henry’s adopted mother from her stuttering shock.  It was the least he could do—he was going to marry Emma!  He grinned down at Henry.  “I _guess_ you can be invited, even if it isn’t customary to have your kids there.”

“Da-ad!”

Everyone laughed again, breaking the serious mood into tiny pieces.  Meanwhile, Bae met his father’s inquiring eyes with a crooked smile and a shrug.  He still felt like he’d been run over by an out of control train, but he wanted to marry Emma more than anything in the world.  He didn’t care that she was a princess; to Bae, she would always be the girl who he’d met from the back of a stolen bug.  Even if this was going to turn his life even more upside down than earning a knighthood had (or than his father becoming the Dark One had), Bae wanted to marry Emma.  His father’s answering smile told him that Rumplestiltskin understood all too well, and Bae mouthed a silent _thank you_ as Snow spoke up again.

“Well, that simplifies matters,” she said, squaring her shoulders with the air of someone who now had a solution to everything.  “We can mention your engagement when we issue the decree of—”

“Not engagement,” Emma cut her mother off for the second time.  “Marriage.  Didn’t you hear what I said about Vegas?”

“I don’t think you can get to Vegas from here, Mom,” Henry put in as David replied with a grimace:

“Emma, a royal wedding takes time to plan.  Trust me on that.”

“Who said anything about a royal wedding?” she countered, wheeling to face Bae.  “Do you want a big ceremony?”

“Hell, no,” he answered with relish, already knowing where she was going with this one and damn grateful.  He could handle marrying a princess, but doing it in front of thousands of people who expected him to act like royalty?  _No thanks!_

“Then that’s it,” Emma told her parents, clearly not in the mood to be argued with.  “No fuss.  No crazy royal stuff.  How soon can we do this?”

David and Snow exchanged glances, but it was Snow who asked: “Are you two sure about this?”

Emma looked is way, and Bae nodded without hesitation.  “Yeah,” he answered, reaching for Emma’s hand with the one he didn’t still have on Henry’s shoulder.  “We were gonna get married almost fourteen years ago.  Why wait?”

“Who needs Tallahassee, anyway?” Emma asked quietly, and Bae grinned at her.

“I think we found it,” he replied, squeezing her hand.

 

****************

 

It took an hour to plan, because of course Grandma Snow couldn’t just let them grab Archie and say vows, but soon enough, Henry was watching his parents get _married._   Of all the things he had expected to do when he’d woken up that morning, this certainly wasn’t on the list, though it was awesome.  He’d known that Emma and Bae loved one another—Henry would have to have been blind to miss that—but he also knew that sometimes Emma needed a good kick in the butt before she would embrace emotional issues.  He loved her anyway, but both his moms could be a bit like that, which meant this was more than a little surprising.

It wasn’t the only surprise.  Contrary to what his entire family seemed to think, Henry wasn’t stuck on the idea of being a prince.  Finding out that he wasn’t considered one by a lot of people had just been a shock.  Intellectually, Henry knew what being a bastard was—he’d always liked history, and he read a lot—he’d just never though the term might apply to him.  Their old world had just been so _different_ that it had never occurred to him.  Yeah, the Enchanted Forest was different, but the people were the same, so why should it matter?  Adults really did have some odd ideas sometimes, but Henry knew enough to know that centuries of thinking one way couldn’t be overturned in a year, no matter how stupid the traditions were.  Still, Henry supposed that not being a prince wouldn’t stop him from doing kinds of things his parents did now, anyway.  He could still help people and fight evil, no matter what people called him.

Of course, that didn’t matter now that Grandma Snow said they could fix it all with a degree of legitimization, anyway.  She and Gramps could apparently just pass a law that made everyone shut up.  The politics of it were murky, but Henry understood that much, and it made government in the Enchanted Forest seem a lot more efficient than it had back in the United States.  _Being King or Queen must really help when it comes to solving problems fast._

Speaking of which, Grandma Snow looked ready to cry while Emma and Bae exchanged their hurriedly written vows, and Gramps had definitely been reluctant to hand Emma over for a moment there.  No one but family and close friends had been invited, which meant only fifteen or so people were in his grandparents giant throne room, but Henry was pretty sure that both is parents were more comfortable with a small crowd.  _Regina_ , on the other hand, would probably have demanded something huge and splashy, but for Emma and Bae, this was just right. 

The same group from earlier had reassembled, with a few additions.  Robin had fetched Roland, of course, who stood between him and Regina now (with Henry on Regina’s other side and sometimes making faces at the smaller boy, who he’d come to like a lot).  Ruby, Granny, Tink, Hook, and Archie—well, Jiminy Cricket; Henry still had a hard time remembering _that_ one—had also been hurriedly invited.  Henry was a little surprised that the pirate had been in town, but he was glad to see the captain, anyway.  Hook shot him a naughty smirk, and Henry grinned in return.  Hook didn’t seem to have any hard feelings over losing out on Emma, and he did look happy for the soon-to-be newlyweds.  He’d even hugged both of them and offered congratulations, teasing Henry’s father before the short ceremony had started.

“Do you, Princess Emma, take this man as your husband?” Jiminy Cricket was asking, hovering between the pair.  Henry had seen his mother throw the flying grasshopper an odd look, but thankfully Emma didn’t object to being married by an insect.  _Mom’s learning,_ Henry thought with a grin.  _Finally!_

Henry had never seen Emma beam so unrestrainedly as she answered: “I do.”

“And do you, Sir Baelfire, take this woman to be your wife?”

“You bet I do,” his father grinned.

“Then I am honored to say that you may kiss the bride,” Jiminy finished, but he almost didn’t get the words out in time.   Henry’s parents were kissing even as the last one came out, and was that a flicker of magic Henry felt in the air?

“Does this make you a prince now?” Henry couldn’t resist needling his father when the pair broke apart. 

Bae blanched.  “God, I hope not.”

David barked out a laugh.  “Sorry, Bae.  It certainly does.  By marriage, anyway.”

“Crap.”

The resulting laughter was good natured, and Henry grinned again as he took a place between his birth parents.  Once, all he’d wanted was a family to call his own.  Now he had two mothers, his dad married to one of them, three grandparents (soon to be four), and a slew of others who he could call family.  He’d been so lonely in the days of the curse, but never again.

“It seems we’re awash in princes, then,” Regina put in with a wicked smile, and Henry couldn’t help snickering.  He loved both his mothers, even with how different—and similar—they were, but sometimes his sense of humor was all Regina’s.  His father still looked a little put out, but Henry knew that he’d get over it.  “Congratulations, you two,” the Evil Queen continued.  “It’s about damn time.”

“Gee, thanks, Regina,” Emma retorted dryly.  Henry didn’t think the sparks would ever stop flying between those two, but at least now they were _good_ sparks.  Usually.

“You know me.  I’m always the life of every part,” Regina shot back, and Emma snorted.  She said something else that Henry didn’t catch; he was too busy watching while his Grandpa Gold approached his own son. 

“It appears that I didn’t need to meddle in your love life, after all,” he said quietly, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“I think we both did okay,” Bae replied with a grin, reaching down to ruffle Henry’s hair.

“Hey!” he objected, but his Dad ignored him, adding:

“Even this one didn’t have to try too hard at playing matchmaker.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Henry challenged his father, but he could see the laughter in both Bae and Rumplestiltskin’s eyes.

“I think we’ve have noticed that one, lad,” Rumplestiltskin replied.

He tried on his most enigmatic smile.  “Maybe.”

That only made the two men laugh.  Henry supposed that he had a long ways to go before he even approached his grandfather’s skill at manipulating people, and besides, he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted to aspire to, anyway.  Neither of his mothers would approve if he started down that road, that was for sure.  Besides, he rather liked the way his dad did things, instead; Baelfire used his brains to anticipate situations, but he was more of a man of action and less of a puppet master.  Still, the world needed all kinds, and Henry wouldn’t trade anyone in his family for anything.

“I don’t think you’re going to be as lucky as we were,” his father said suddenly to Grandpa Gold, nodding at where Belle was deep in conversation with Grandma Snow about something or another.  “Unless I miss my guess—and haven’t noticed that the two of them are obviously talking about you—I think Snow just intruded on your wedding plans.”

Henry hadn’t thought his scariest grandfather could go pale like that, and he watched Rumplestiltskin swallow several times before saying resignedly: “You might be right.”

“Might, hell, Pop. You’re screwed.”

“If it makes her happy…” Rumplestiltskin trailed off with a sigh.

“You’re so whipped,” Baelfire laughed, earning himself a glare from his father.

“At least I managed to properly propose,” his grandfather retorted.  “Despite many interruptions.”

Henry’s father only snorted and shrugged, clearly not at all put out that Emma had dropped the idea of marriage on him exactly one hour before they’d gotten hitched.  Then again, Henry knew that his parents _had_ known one another a really long time (he was kind of proof of that), even if their lives had always been too wild to give them the time to settle down.

“So,” he asked, craning his neck to look up at his father.  “You guys gonna go on a honeymoon now?”

“I don’t know if we’ll have time for that, buddy,” his father replied with a shrug.  Then Henry watched Bae’s eyes go to Emma, who had finished her friendly spat with Regina and turned back to them.  “What do you think?”

“I think it depends on if your dad kills me first,” she replied, a little more self-consciously than Henry would have expected.

Rumplestiltskin arched an eyebrow.  “Now whatever gives you the idea that I might want to?”

“Because you have to live with having me as your daughter-in-law, now.”

“I can think of worse people,” was the immediate response, but Henry could see the humor in his grandfather’s eyes.  “Regina, for one.”

“I heard that, Rumple,” his other mother growled.

“Of course you did, dear,” was the laughing response, but Rumplestiltskin turned serious as he looked back at Emma.  “We’ll always strike sparks, Emma, but that’s because you stand up to me,” he said with a kind of unguarded honesty Henry had rarely seen from his grandfather.  “I respect that.  I can even like that—and you.  There’s no one I would be more pleased to call my daughter-in-law.”

“Seriously?” Emma’s voice was surprisingly small, and Rumplestiltskin smiled.  

“Seriously,” he replied, stepping forward to kiss her on the cheek while Henry’s mother blushed bright red.  His dad laughed, of course, but Henry could see how happy he was.

Nothing, he decided, could ruin this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be going on vacation next week, so there will be a short pause before the next chapter. In the meantime, what trick to you think Blue still has up her sleeve (because there definitely is one) and do you think Jafar will be on the “good” side when he’s given a choice?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter Fifty: “Moment of Truth”, in which Rumplestiltskin, Regina, and Emma conspire; Blue makes her move; and Rumplestiltskin contemplates out and out murder. While you wait, please let me know what you think!


	51. Moment of Truth

**_Chapter Fifty—“Moment of Truth”_ **

 

The next morning started off with politics, which bored Rumplestiltskin nearly to tears.  He’d contemplated skipping the entire session—no one actually accomplished something in the initial politicking of a gathering like this—but he’d wanted to see the looks on the various royals’ faces when Snow and Charming announced Emma’s marriage to Bae.  _That_ , at least, had not been disappointing.  Only Midas had looked even a little pleased by it; Francis had looked like he’d swallowed a dancing cat whole, and his eldest son didn’t look much better.  Leah and Hubert both looked absolutely horrified by the thought of a princess marrying a mere knight, even if said knight was a war hero and the son of a sorcerer.  Philip and Aurora, on the other hand, looked a little less put out, but neither looked precisely what Rumplestiltskin would consider happy.

Many of the nobles looked equally upset—did the fools cherish hopes of marrying Emma themselves?  If so, they didn’t know Rumplestiltskin’s daughter-in-law very well at all.  His _daughter in law._ Huh.  That was really going to take some getting used to. 

But Rumplestiltskin had meant what he’d told Emma the previous evening.  Although if someone had asked him a few years previously if he would have chosen Snow and Charming’s daughter for his son, he would have answered a resounding _no_ , Rumplestiltskin now understood that only Emma was going to make Baelfire happy.  She was pigheaded, obnoxious, and entirely too brave, but he’d known that for a long time.  Emma was more than just the mother of his grandson; she was the woman his son loved.  And love rarely came from expected sources—look at him and Belle.  No one could have ever imagined that Beauty would fall in love with the Beast, and now _they_ were going to be married.  Even if Bae had beaten him to the punch.

Having Belle by his side was the only thing that made that morning session bearable at all.  She could read his irritation when it rose and sometimes a look from Belle was enough to keep Rumplestiltskin from saying something regrettable.  The one time his mouth _did_ run away from him, she was able to step in, smoothing over ruffled feathers and keeping things from exploding.  They really did make a fantastic team, and when foolish monarchs needed smacking down, Belle was only too able to assist.  This case had been one where a tongue-lashing was well deserved, too; King Francis had proposed banning _all_ magic users from most areas of most kingdoms, restricting their movements to well-guarded enclaves where they ‘ _couldn’t harm anyone else_ ’.  Rumplestiltskin had, naturally, pointed out that Francis would have a hell of a time restraining _every_ magic user in the world without their cooperation (because how to hold them, if not with magic?), but his tone had been perhaps a tad too antagonistic.  Belle, however, had reminded everyone, with calm logic, that there was little rhyme or reason to who gained magic.  Besides which, she said, _having_ magic did not make one evil, and stuffing magic users into their own “camps” would be the height of injustice.

Snow and Charming, of course, agreed with her—it was hard not to, what with their daughter a budding sorceress and Regina sitting to Snow’s right—and so did Midas, who had enough experience with _helpful_ magic to know better.  Francis, however, did seem stuck on the notion until Rumplestiltskin finally snapped again:

“And would you like your granddaughter in one of these camps you’re determined to create, _Your Majesty?_ ”

That jerked Francis up short, and he looked offended.  “Of course not.”

“Well, then, when she grows into a sorceress, you’d best hope no one’s started rounding up magic users, then,” he replied with a sneer.

Most people at the table were aware that Rumplestiltskin could see the future, and that meant the barb dug deeper—and shut Francis up.  Queen Leah seemed likely to reinvigorate the topic as a viable solution, but Belle got in before Aurora’s mother could try.

“Would you send your healers there?” she asked reasonably.  “Your midwives?”

“Obviously not,” the first sleeping princess replied.  “There would have to be a stringent process by which it was determined which magic users are useful to society and which are not.”

The sweeping _danger_ inherent in that statement was enough to strike Rumplestiltskin speechless for a moment—was he the only one whose cursed self had been a student of history in the Land Without Magic?  Did these people not realize what they were proposing?

“Only if we get to do the same thing with politicians,” Emma cut in with an acidic smile, and then her mother effectively ended the argument by calling for a recess.  Snow’s timing was excellent, too; while no one else could have managed to head off the brewing tempest, the fact that _she_ was hosting the Grand Council allowed Snow to do so succinctly.  That, and even Rumplestiltskin had to grudgingly admit that Snow’s integrity and goodness were above reproach.

Surprisingly, Emma approached him as the council’s participants wandered out into the courtyard, most heading for the buffet tables but others forming small knots of conversation.  There was a definite buzz in the air, and a dangerous one; Francis’ suggestion was gathering traction in some circles and absolutely polarizing others.  Still reeling a little from the sheer audacity (and stupidity!) of the idea, Rumplestiltskin was glad to see that those who supported Leah were few in number, but the fact that they existed at all was unsettling.

“Who do they think they are, Nazis?” Emma demanded angrily, her eyes flashing.

“I don’t think some of your parents’ esteemed colleagues would understand the reference,” Rumplestiltskin replied quietly, anger softening his voice and sharpening his focus. 

Flashes of visions peppered across his consciousness as he spoke; something was going on here, and the future teetered on a dangerous precipice.  Nothing terribly coherent came through, just bits and pieces of imagery, of fairies versus humans and all-out war erupting— _No.  That’s what we’re here to prevent_ , he told himself firmly, wrapping his mental hands around the visions and pushing them behind his walls.  Telling what _would_ be from what _could_ be was still the hardest part of being a Seer, even after this many centuries.  But Rumplestiltskin could not allow mere possibilities to cloud his mind.  He already knew the stakes were unbelievably high.  Otherwise he would not have come here in the first place.

“They can call it what they want.  It’s still locking people up because they think they’re different,” the savior snarled.  “Who do they think would lock us all away, anyway?”

“The fairies, I expect.”  That was Regina, entering the conversation with a sneer.  “Did you notice how satisfied Blue is looking over there?  I wouldn’t be surprised if she jumps on this one.”

As a matter of fact, Rumplestiltskin _hadn’t_ noticed the senior fairy floating by Queen Leah’s side, looking entirely too pleased with herself while she did so.  Had she been behind that little proposal?  Rumplestiltskin did not think Blue was quite that narrow-minded, but Ruel Ghorm had surprised him before.  Sidelining all human magic users _would_ force the rest of humanity to depend upon the fairies again, for everything from healing to curse breaking to the greater magics.  Was that what Blue wanted?  Rumplestiltskin thought he knew what her sister was after, but what if they were trying to accomplish the same sort of thing?  

Danns wanted the fae back in the game, to provide a counterpoint to the fairies and restore her power of old.  She wanted power, pure and simple, to regain her place as one of the most powerful beings in existence.  To do that, Danns had to escape whatever plans Blue had in place, but she also wanted humanity to serve her, much as they once had, worshiping and fearing her all at once.  She wanted a return to a world that was no more…but most of all, she wanted her freedom.  But what if Blue was thinking along similar lines?  She didn’t want or need freedom, but what if Blue also wanted a return to the old days, where fairy and fae ruled supreme, and humans were nothing but pawns?  If so, the first step was certainly to remove all human magic users from the equation. 

Another vision flashed before his eyes, of Danns standing on a hilltop not far from here, fire burning in her eyes and magic arcing from her fingertips.  Her shoulders were back and her chin was up as she faced down…what?

“There’s no way they think that would work,” Emma said, breaking into his thoughts. 

Rumplestiltskin blinked his way free of the visions.  _Past or present?_ he wondered to himself.  “They might at that,” he murmured, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand. 

“And we’re supposed to _let_ them?” Emma demanded.  “I don’t know about you two, but I have no intention of being sent off to some concentration camp.”

“Of course we’re not going to let them.  Even if a strong majority here at the Grand Council wants to lock away all magic users, there are plenty of others who will vote against it.  Like your parents.”

“What if that isn’t enough?” the Savior asked, frowning.  “These people don’t strike me as the types who really care what a vote tells them to do.”

“Are you even listening, Rumple?” Regina demanded instead of answering Emma, her voice quiet but insistent.  The Evil Queen looked a little concerned, even worried, and she was being careful not to let anyone overhear their conversation.

“Of course I am, dear,” he replied, his voice equally soft.  “I’m simply _thinking_ instead of complaining.”

Regina rolled her eyes.  “Do you have any brilliant ideas, then, O Great Sorcerer?” she asked sarcastically.

“One or two.”  The nasty smile reared up of its own volition, and Rumplestiltskin turned to face Regina and Emma both.  “But what we don’t do, under any circumstances, is allow them to lock _any_ humans away, no matter what reasons they claim to be doing so for.”

“What are we going to do, go to war with the fairies?” Emma asked.

“If we must.”

Regina shrugged.  “They’re easy enough to kill.”

Emma looked at both of them like they were mad.  “Look, maybe you two played villains for too long, but I don’t think that killing fairies is the answer.  Aren’t we already neck deep in a war with the fae?  We can’t fight a war on two fronts, not even with the magical coalition you’ve built.”

Yet a third vision swept through his mind, and Rumplestiltskin’s smile grew trickier.  “We won’t have to.  Ruel Ghorm, for all her many faults, knows that she can’t hold me any more than she can hold her sister, and while I’m free, no one will be locking human magic users away.”

“What, you’re going to protect all of us?” Emma asked incredulously. 

“Don’t mistake me for a hero, Princess,” Rumplestiltskin retorted immediately, not even slightly comfortable with that characterization.  “I’m a practical man, and ensuring that humanity can look after itself is merely in my best interests.”

“Of course it is,” Regina replied, but the accompanying eye roll seemed automatic.  She studied Rumplestiltskin carefully.  “Are you positive that this power of yours is enough to keep Blue from holding onto you?”

“Short of putting Henry’s heart into my chest, she has no way to control me,” he replied tightly.  “Trying something else didn’t work terribly well for her sister.”

No need to tell these two how powerful those bands Danns used on him were.  Rumplestiltskin knew how to get around them now, and he suspected that Danns would not be so foolish as to try the same methods a third time.  No, she’d come up with something far smarter—or she’d just outright kill him, forgoing the chance to recreate the Dark One in him and decide to do so in someone else.  No, what Emma and Regina needed to hear was that he was with them, and Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t leave them—and by extension, every other human magical user—hanging in the lurch.  Rumplestiltskin had never had much of a reputation as a team player, but if there had ever been a time to change that, it was now.

“No offense, given that you’re my father-in-law, now, but what’s made you decide that working and playing well with others was suddenly in your best interest?” Emma asked.  There really were times that she could read him far too well.

“Because I’m human,” Rumplestiltskin answered bluntly.  “Nasty old habits though I may have, that trumps everything else rather nicely.  And I am an original power.  If we’re ever going to have a chance of finding any balance, of ending this war, we’re going to all need that.”

Emma and Regina exchanged a glance, but Rumplestiltskin knew it was only old habit.  Both had been his adversaries.  Both had been each other’s enemies.  But the three of them were the most powerful human magic users in the Enchanted Forest, and they had to work together.  Somehow, doing so didn’t seem as odious as it once would have, and Rumplestiltskin wondered if he was getting soft.

“Then how about a toast to freedom?” Regina asked, snagging a glass of wine off the tray of a nearby server.  There was only a little irony in her voice, but it was the light in her eyes that made Rumplestiltskin smile. Regina had always been a closet idealist…and it was nice to see her going back to her roots.

It was nice to call the woman who had almost been his daughter an ally instead of an enemy, too, even if he would never tell her that.  So, Rumplestiltskin took a glass of his own, raising it to meet Regina’s and Emma’s.  Together, the three of them were far more powerful than they could ever be separately, and _that_ would make the difference that mattered in the end.  Three glasses clinked: the Evil Queen’s, the Savior’s, and the (former) Dark One’s.  They would stand together, against whatever came.

Rumplestiltskin’s glass touched his lips, and he noticed too late that the wine tasted just a little bit wrong, with the sweet tang of dark magic underlying grapes and oak.  He started to say something, but then the world went black.

He fell.

 

****************

 

“What the—” Regina’s voice rang out as a soft _thud_ came from somewhere to Belle’s left, followed by the clatter of a goblet hitting the floor. 

Pausing in her conversation with Aurora, Belle turned idly to see what the noise was and what had gotten under Regina’s skin this time.  She was not expecting to see Rumplestiltskin crumbled to the ground with Emma kneeling beside him, limp and lifeless.  Emma’s eyes were wide and panicked, her expression confused.  Regina stood over both of them, anger making her features harsh, her lips pressed together in a thin and rigid line. 

“What the hell just happened?” Emma demanded while Belle stood transfixed, her mind refusing to believe what her eyes were reporting. 

He wasn’t moving.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t _moving._   Belle’s heart was trying to stop.

She wasn’t sure that it hadn’t.

“That’s a sleeping curse,” Regina replied as Belle’s wooden legs started to carry her forward.  The Evil Queen’s voice was hollow, and her posture stiff; Emma looked up at her suspiciously.

“How do you know?”

“You might call me an expert on the subject,” Regina replied dryly.  

“You didn’t…?”

“Didn’t what?” Regina snapped, and then she seemed to suddenly understand what Emma meant, the same first thought that had occurred to Belle.  The Evil Queen flushed with anger.  “Why would _I_ put _Rumplestiltskin_ under a sleeping curse?  What could that possibly gain me?  When he wakes up, he’ll be ready to murder whoever was responsible, and I’m not that stupid.”

“Of course you’re not,” Emma replied as Belle finally made it over to stand next to Regina.  “I just—”

“Came to a very logical conclusion,” a third voice interjected primly, and Belle stumbled on her way to kneeling next to Rumplestiltskin, staring at the Blue Fairy.  “Princess Emma has a very valid point.  Queen Regina _did_ propose the toast, and she is well known for using such horrible curses as weapons against her enemies.”

The crowd was starting to press in on the four of them, and Belle noticed Snow and Charming pushing forward to the forefront of the mass of people.  Baelfire was right on their heels, and he pushed past the Blue Fairy to drop to his knees at Belle’s side as she pulled Rumplestiltskin’s head into her lap.  Emma rose and cleared the way for the pair of them, her eyes narrowed and watching her family’s patron fairy distrustfully.  Keeping half an eye on the brewing exchange, Belle took a deep breath and touched Rumplestiltskin’s forehead.  It was cold and clammy already, and he was not breathing.  _Oh, Rumple._   Belle bit her lip. 

Her heart was lodged so deeply in her throat that it was a miracle that Belle could breathe at all.  Slowly, she looked up at Bae, watched him swallow hard.  His brown eyes, so like Rumplestiltskin’s, were huge and worried, and Belle was suddenly glad that Henry was not there.   Henry would have taken this so badly—but Regina had said it was a sleeping curse.  And at least that meant that whoever had _dared_ do this to Rumplestiltskin had thought it would take him down, without ever understanding that Belle could save him.  _People always forget,_ she had told Emma months earlier.  And some people did not accept their love at all.

“But as she says, she’s not an idiot,” Emma pointed out harshly, her eyes still on Blue.

“And Regina is the Evil Queen no longer,” Snow spoke up, rising to her stepmother’s defense.  “Whoever is responsible for this, we all know it wasn’t her.”

“I would not be so sure about that, child,” the Blue Fairy replied in that all-knowing, entirely-too-gentle tone she liked to use when she thought someone was being ridiculous.  It made Belle grimace, and she thought she saw Emma start to roll her eyes.  “As much as you _want_ to believe in Queen Regina’s innocence, Your Majesty, I do not think we can afford the luxury of making such assumptions.  It is well known that the Black Fairy is seeking allies amongst humans, particularly those who have magic, and—”

“Oh, give me a break,” Regina cut her off with a snort.  “Your _sister_ tried to kill me not too long ago, in case you’ve forgotten.  And she—like you—wants my son’s heart.  There’s nothing in the world that would make me ally with her.”  The Evil Queen gestured down at the still form between Belle and Baelfire.  “And before you start throwing more accusations around, Blue, why don’t we ask ourselves the important question?  Why _would_ someone want to put Rumplestiltskin under a sleeping curse, anyway?”

“That’s a very good question,” Belle spoke up, feeling cold.  The satisfied look in the Blue Fairy’s eyes had not wavered, even for a moment.  Belle had always wanted to think that Rumple thought the worst of the Blue Fairy based solely on his long years of hating her—and blaming her, not without reason, for taking Bae away from him—but she was starting to realize that he might have been right all along.

_If there is goodness or purity in her, it is so warped by her desire to do what is ‘right’ that even Blue has lost track of it,_ Belle thought to herself.

“Rumplestiltskin has many enemies,” Blue started to point out, and Belle started to get a _very_ sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

“Why don’t we ask him?” Regina replied before Blue could continue.

“He’s under a sleeping curse,” someone else pointed out.  Was that the Cyan Fairy?  Belle wasn’t sure.  But her tone said that she thought Regina was a fool as well as being evil.

“Funny how that small problem can be solved by True Love’s kiss,” the Evil Queen shot back.

“ _Rumplestiltskin_ does not have a True Love,” the same fairy retorted.  “He could not.”

Belle’s head snapped up to glare at Cyan.  “And why not?  Because _you_ don’t think he’s worthy?” she demanded.  “Because of whatever pre-conceived notion you have of True Love?  You know nothing about it.”

“Child, Rumplestiltskin remains a creature of darkness,” Cyan sneered.  “Whatever you think you feel for him is a lie.”

“Oh, is it?” Belle snapped, her patience at its limit.  “Then call this a lie.”

Bending over, she kissed Rumplestiltskin without a further word.  As her lips touched his, brilliant golden light burst outwards from the pair, pure magic racing through the air.  Even Belle felt the power surge moving through her, unaware as she usually was to magic.  The _whoosh_ made several people in the surrounding crowd step back, and Belle thought she heard the Blue Fairy whisper in shock.  But she really didn’t care.  Her eyes were focused on Rumplestiltskin’s face, just watching.  Waiting.  Hoping.

Belle knew it would have to work, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t afraid.  Her True Love lay limp and helpless, not breathing, and—

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes opened, his eyes met Belle’s, and he smiled.

“Hey,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, his voice only a little smug.  “I knew you’d wake me.”

Her heart started beating again like thunder in her ears.  “Anytime,” Belle whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. 

This time, the surge of magic was not nearly so powerful, but she could still feel it rattling in her bones, running shivers down her spine.  Rumplestiltskin’s touch had always been able to light her soul on fire, but this was something else entirely.  This was like the very first kiss they had shared, innocent and unknowing in its power.  Or it was like the first kiss in Bremen, when she had thought he was dead and that no amount of hoping would bring him back, until suddenly Rumplestiltskin was _there_ and she was no longer alone.  Watching him collapse this time had not been so terrifying as the time in Storybrooke, or even when he’d vanished after killing Norco, but the relief burning through Belle was still akin to the world’s best high.

“I love you,” he told her, sitting up and kissing her a third time.  Belle smiled against his lips, and then turned to look at the pair of fairies.

“You were saying?” she asked innocently. 

The outraged expression on Blue’s face was downright comical, and Cyan’s mouth was actually hanging open.  They weren’t the only shocked ones in the crowd, but they were the two that mattered, and Belle could see several people openly staring.  But the calculating gleam beside the astonishment in Blue’s eyes was worrisome, wasn’t it?  She could feel Rumple tensing beside her, probably reading the same thing from the senior fairy.   They rose together, hands intertwined, but it was Regina who dug the knife in deeper.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the Evil Queen smirked, her voice a mocking coo.  “Did no one mention to you that they’re True Love?”

Rumplestiltskin snickered softly, but even as Belle looked his way, all amusement left his face and his smile became predatory.  Without releasing her hand, he prowled forward a step, malice dancing in his eyes.  Much to Belle’s surprise, however, he glanced at Regina, running his tongue over his lips contemplatively. 

“That was your magic.  Did you lose a sleeping curse, Regina, dear?” he asked.

Regina blinked.  “Yes.  Zelena took one from me the day we met.  Back at my castle.”

“Well, isn’t _that_ interesting,” Rumplestiltskin replied, his voice going high pitched and reminiscent of the days when he’d been a demon.  “And I wonder who picked _that_ up when your lovely big sister died?”

“That’s a damn good question,” Regina said warily, and Belle watched the two of them exchange a significant glance.  Rumple never liked to admit how close he and Regina were, but in many strange ways, those two were like family.  Now that closeness showed, and Belle suppressed a smile as she saw the unspoken communication whipping between them.

No, Rumple didn’t blame Regina.  He knew her too well for that, and trusted her too much.  Emma seemed to somehow tap into that same wavelength, or maybe she was just smart, because the savior stepped up next to Regina, her back straight and radiating power.  The two sorceresses were both watching Rumplestiltskin for a cue, but Belle’s fiancé had eyes only for the Blue Fairy.   His brown eyes were dark with calculation and more than a little rage, and Belle could feel the barely restrained power quivering from the hand she still held.

“Isn’t it just?” he asked softly, dangerously, his eyes still on the senior fairy.

“What trick is this?” Blue demanded, obviously having had enough of his glare.  “You cannot possibly have a True Love.  Your nature precludes such a thing from being _possible_.  What unholy deal have you made, Rumplestiltskin?”

“No deal at all, dearie.”  His smile was slow.  “Merely the most powerful magic in all the realms: True Love.  And don’t look so surprised.  You of all people should know that my nature was never defined by my curse.  But why is it that you’re so _angry_ to see me awake?  Upset that your curse failed?”

“I would never—”

“Do be careful about what you say you would never do.  You wouldn’t want to _lie,_ after all,” Rumplestiltskin cut her off quietly.  “I know fairy magic when I taste it, Ruel Ghorm, and that of an original power has a particular _kick_ to it.  You didn’t hide your tracks well enough when you magic’d that sleeping curse into my drink.”

“ _You_ did this?”  It was Snow’s shocked voice that filled the sudden silence, that interjected while Blue was clearly framing a response to Rumplestiltskin’s accusations. 

Briefly, Belle considered how very far their disjointed family had come when Snow White believed Rumplestiltskin—unfailingly and without hesitation—over the Blue Fairy, but that was what this war had done to them.  Despite their differences, they had stood together for over a year now, stood against darkness and against all those who would take Henry’s heart and use him for centuries.  The Blue Fairy had once been the most trusted fairy in all the realms, had once been the patron fairy of Snow’s family and the one Snow would turn to above all others for help.  But no longer.  Ever since they’d returned to the Enchanted Forest to find the fae coming out of hiding, the Blue Fairy had put her own agenda above helping others, and Belle could tell how much that infuriated Snow.  Snow kept giving her chances…and Blue kept doing the same old thing.

“I do not expect you to understand, child,” the Blue Fairy responded, squaring her shoulders majestically.  “But I am doing what is right for our world.”

“How is a sleeping curse _right_?” Snow demanded even as Regina laughed:

“Oh.  That’s rich.  Even _I_ never tried to claim I was after anything other than revenge.”

Blue ignored Regina, saying loftily: “Such power cannot be left unchecked.  Rumplestiltskin is…unpredictable, as are all humans.  It is in your nature.  But an original power cannot be unpredictable; we must personify order, and justice, and we must do what is _right_ , regardless of the cost.”

“Like taking a child’s heart?” Belle couldn’t stop herself from demanding, and it earned her a sneer from Blue.

“Even necessary actions are sometimes distasteful.  I would make sure Henry does not suffer unnecessarily.  And it is what _must_ be done, regardless of our personal feelings, to maintain order in the Enchanted Forest.”

“You don’t need order, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin drawled from Belle’s side. “You need _chaos._   You need to give people the opportunity to screw their own lives up, free will, _choice_.  The world’s not what it used to be, and that’s what being human is—the chance to decide your own fate.  Being unpredictable, if you will.  Not letting self-important fairies decide it for you.”

“You will never understand,” Blue snapped back at him.  “And that is why you can _never_ be trusted.”

Power reared up, fast and strong.  Even Belle felt the magic as Blue summoned it to her; the fairy’s wand was suddenly in hand and her eyes were blazing with power.  Emma shouted a warning, and Regina started to react, but Belle felt Rumplestiltskin’s hand leave hers, and he stepped forward quickly, placing himself between Blue and the others as power sizzled into the air between them.  Belle couldn’t follow what happened in the next few moments, but she could feel the floor underneath her feet trembling madly, could sense the world tipping wildly on its axis.  It was like a sudden cold front had swept into the room, bringing with it wind and thunder and—

_Crack_.  The flash that came was much like lightning, only far more electric.  Belle was momentarily blinded by the flare of magic, but when her vision cleared, Blue’s wand was in Rumplestiltskin’s left hand and the fairy was pressed against the wall, her eyes wide and shocked.  Rumplestiltskin stood a few feet from her, his smile predatory and power still working in the air between them.  Belle hadn’t known that Blue could use magic without her wand, but clearly she was still fighting back…to no avail.  They were both original powers, Belle knew, but not of the same type—and Rumplestiltskin had always been willing to fight dirty.

Belle knew more about Rumplestiltskin’s power than anyone else, probably more than Rumplestiltskin himself, even.  He understood it through experimentation and instinct, but she had done the research and shared it with him.  Belle knew what Merlin had been, knew what role he had filled and the immense magic he had always been able to summon.  She wasn’t sure that the others in the crowd really understood that; judging from the shocked expressions on every face, none of them had expected Rumplestiltskin’s magic to win out in the short, titanic battle they had just witnessed.  But Belle could see as Blue’s final barrier collapsed, could see the vicious way Rumplestiltskin’s magic knocked Blue back and figuratively speaking, disarmed her.  Like her sister, Blue clearly hadn’t expected him to _use_ his power so well, despite knowing what he was.  She’d forgotten—she, who shouldn’t forget—that Rumplestiltskin’s most potent weapon had always been his mind.

Frantically, suddenly afraid—though Belle thought some of the panic was manufactured for the benefit of their audience—Blue looked at Snow and Charming.

“I told you he was dangerous.  I _told_ you he had to be stopped!”

“You told us he was working for the Black Fairy,” Charming retorted, his voice cold enough to freeze a river of lava.  “You _lied_ to us.”

“He may yet be.  The ease of his escape—”

“Oh, there was nothing easy about that,” Rumplestiltskin cut her off, his left hand still up to hold her pinned against the wall as Blue struggled uselessly.

“I can vouch for that,” Emma spoke up immediately.

Belle studied the Blue Fairy’s face over her True Love’s shoulder contemplatively.  Had she given in too easily?  A sudden thought occurred to Belle, making her shiver.  What if the Blue Fairy _wanted_ to appear the victim here?  Was that her game, to make Rumplestiltskin look like the monster and she the saint?

“Rumple,” she said softly, hoping that her soft voice could cut through the fury she knew was dancing inside him.  But the last thing Belle wanted to let happen was for Blue to manipulate everyone watching into thinking Rumplestiltskin _was_ the evil one here, and she tried desperately to communicate that when he glanced over his shoulder at her.

A moment passed in silence; Belle hoped he got the message.

Rumplestiltskin cocked his head at Blue.  “You don’t believe that at all, do you?” he asked, his voice terrifyingly soft.  “You know that she can’t control me any more than you can.”

“I know you must be stopped before you ruin everything.”

“Don’t like the idea of humans having someone to turn to other than you, dearie?  That they might _dare_ live outside whatever perfect little boundaries you’ve set for them?” he retorted, his voice sharp and mocking.

“She wanted me to kill you,” David suddenly spoke up, making Belle’s head snap around so quickly that her neck cracked. 

“What?” she demanded, feeling her eyes go wide.  Belle’s heart hammered in her chest, but Rumple did not look surprised.

“Are you going to?” Rumplestiltskin asked the king, but there was no curiosity in the question; Belle sensed that it, too, was for the benefit of those watching.

“Of course not,” David replied.  His left hand was tight on Excalibur’s hilt, but Belle could see that it wasn’t Rumplestiltskin he felt threatened by.

“I’m glad to know I didn’t hand Excalibur to the wrong man,” Rumplestiltskin said softly, his eyes travelling back to Blue.  “That’s the thing about trust, you know.  It has to be earned.”

“And kept,” Snow interjected, her eyes sad but her voice hard.  “You never came here with any intention of working with us, did you?  All you wanted was to get Rumplestiltskin out of the way.”

“So you could lock the rest of us up,” Regina picked up in a snarl.  “What are you afraid we’ll do, ruin your perfect little world?  It’s our world, too, _fairy._ ”

Blue stepped away from the wall, radiating power again as her helpless façade crumbled away.  “ _I_ am doing what is necessary,” she replied.  “And if you will not help me, Snow, I will find those who will.”

“Help you, dearie?  I’m tempted to _kill_ you,” Rumplestiltskin said before Snow could reply, and Belle was unsurprised to see the dagger in his hand once more.

Circe’s dagger had almost killed Blue once before, Belle knew, and something told her that the Black Fairy would not appear to save her sister this time.  If Rumplestiltskin wanted to finish the job that Circe had started millennia earlier, no one could stop him.  Furthermore, a quick glance around the room told Belle that no one _would_ stop him, or at least no one who mattered would even try.  Not even Snow and Charming looked sympathetic to the Blue Fairy’s plight.  Not anymore.

“You wouldn’t—” Blue started, then cut herself off.  “That isn’t the real dagger.  The real dagger is in my sister’s possession.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled.  “I suppose you missed when I took it back from her favorite pet,” he sneered.  “She can no longer summon it, but _I_ can.”

“You would not dare.”

“And why not?  Does your power pass on, or does it just vanish into the world the way Circe’s did?  I’d like to find out.”

The courtyard was suddenly very quiet.  Belle could hear people breathing.

“I wonder,” Rumplestiltskin mused theatrically.

Belle knew him better than anyone alive, but even she couldn’t tell if he meant to kill Blue or not.

“The power will transfer,” Blue retorted tightly—but her expression was smug.  “To a person of _my_ choosing.”

To the side, Cyan drew herself up proudly, and Belle saw Tinker Bell, standing near Regina on the edge of the crowd, grimace.

“Pity.”  The hard edge was back in Rumplestiltskin’s voice, and if he was waiting for anyone to jump to Blue’s defense, no one did so.  “But I might just be willing to take my chances.  Or to keep killing fairies until someone more reasonable inherits your power.”

“You can’t—” Cyan started.

“Shut up,” Regina cut her off.

Every eye was still on Rumplestiltskin and Blue.

“You will find that killing me is far harder than you think,” the senior fairy finally said.

“Yet we both know I can.  A secondary power will do the trick quite nicely, though you’re not going to find someone to do it for _you_ , now are you?”

David crossed his arms.  His position was clear.

Rumplestiltskin flicked the dagger slightly towards Blue, and she blanched.

“I’m only going to ask you this question once, _Ruel Ghorm_ , so answer carefully,” Rumplestiltskin continued.  “Do you want to live?”

Blue’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you want?”

“To make a deal with you, of course,” he replied with a smile laced with irony.  “You stop this nonsense about eliminating human magic users, and you _help_ people against the fae.  _Fairies_ can reach places humans cannot, and you know better than I do how many they’ve taken.  You help those people.  You stop your fairies from hiding while humans die at the hands of your cousins.”

“Oh, is that _all_ you want?”

“You want to live, you get to be what you’re supposed to be,” Rumplestiltskin said nastily.  “And you stop trying to take Henry’s heart.  Forever.”  A beat of silence passed, and he cocked his head.  “Do we have a deal?”

Blue glared.

“Yes,” she finally grated out.  “We have a deal.”

 

****************

 

That ended the Grand Council for the day; after Rumplestiltskin and Blue’s impromptu face off, Belle waking Rumplestiltskin from a sleeping curse, and Blue’s furious departure, no one had the stomach to attempt further politicking.  Queen Leah slinked off after King Francis loudly accused her of backing Blue, and David had to break up that argument before it got out of hand.  Snow cancelled the grand dinner planned for that evening, instead opting to let the buzz die down and the guests eat in their rooms.  Of course, Rumplestiltskin and Belle hadn’t been allowed that much privacy—they’d been dragged into a family dinner instead.  Or he’d been dragged.  Belle had seemed perfectly happy to attend.

Truth be told, Rumplestiltskin was not nearly as disgruntled by that as his grumbling would indicate.  Having Snow and David back him instead of Blue had been as terrifying as it had been startling.  He had their trust, Snow had said, although in not so many words.  Apparently, he’d finally earned it, and _kept_ it.  This was such a far cry from the initial awkward days of their alliance in Neverland.

Even if the Charmings had been shocked by the definitive proof that he and Belle were True Love.

“They really don’t remember, do they?” Belle said in response to his wry remark on that very subject.

“I doubt they’ll forget now, sweetheart,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.  They lay curled up in bed together, now, exhausted but too keyed up to sleep.  Hours had passed since the near-disaster with Blue, but adrenaline was still racing through his system.

Rumplestiltskin was glad that Snow had braved the potential scandal and not tried to give them separate quarters.  They hadn’t been engaged when they’d arrived at the Charmings’ castle, after all, but Snow had politely ignored that.  Rumplestiltskin didn’t care what the gossips said, but under other circumstances, Snow might have.  Now, of course, they were engaged, which certainly decreased the neigh sayers’ ability to summon up sufficient outrage over the impropriety of unmarried lovers sharing a room, but he was still grateful.  The Enchanted Forest was not Storybrooke, after all, and values were different here.

Belle giggled.  “I guess not.”  Then she turned to look at him, her intelligent eyes not quite suspicious but certainly a little wary.  “You said you knew that I’d wake you.”

“Did you intend not to?”  he asked playfully, earning himself a light swat on the chest.

“Of course not.  But I do want to know if you knew that was coming.”

Rumplestiltskin sighed.  Belle really did know him too well.

“No,” he replied honestly.  “Not until I tasted the curse in the wine, anyway.  By then it was too late.  Oh, I knew that she’d try something, but I never expected Blue to be willing to dabble in such dark magic, even if she _did_ steal it from Zelena.  Who stole it from Regina.”

“Good.”  Belle smiled, but still gave him a hard look.  “If you ever _do_ See something like that, I’d appreciate a little warning.”

His snort of laughter surprised them both.  “Cold blooded though I may be, my dear, but even I’d not willingly subject myself to a sleeping curse.  That kind of ridiculous self-sacrificing choice is the kind of thing I leave for heroes to do.  I’m hardly the type.”

“You’re hero enough for me,” she replied, leaning in to kiss him and making magic sizzle through his system.

“Only you,” Rumplestiltskin whispered against her lips, still not able to believe that this amazing woman had woken him from a sleeping curse.  That she was going to marry him.  After everything he had done, the fact that Belle stood by him could still take Rumplestiltskin’s breath away.

“I love you,” he whispered.  He would never be able to say it enough times.

“And I you.”

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter to make up for the delay—and here are my questions for you! 1) Do you think Blue will keep her end of the deal and 2) What kind of fallout do you think there will be from Rumplestiltskin almost killing Blue?
> 
> Next up is Chapter Fifty-One: “Freedom of Choice”, where Jafar and Rumplestilskin meet, Aladdin shows up at Snow’s castle, and the Black Fairy learns something startling.


	52. Freedom of Choice

**_Chapter Fifty-One—“Freedom of Choice”_ **

 

Ruel was not the only one with spies amongst her cousins. Word of her sister’s little spat with Rumplestiltskin reached Danns within hours of the event, and she had mixed feelings on the matter. On one hand, it was always nice to see Ruel taken down a notch or two; she really was capable of the most astounding self-assuredness, even when she _knew_ she was wrong. And yet, Danns didn’t actually want her sister _dead_. She wanted her defeated and forced to admit it, not removed from the game. Danns wanted freedom for herself and her people, wanted the fae to return to the power they had once had. Ruel didn’t need to die for that to happen, and Danns thought she would have been rather angry had the former Dark One decided to kill her sister.

Rumplestiltskin. He really was proving to be a thorn in her side. She had never imagined he’d prove so difficult when she had held him in Bremen, and this was growing ridiculous. She would have to do something about him, and soon. She had not expected him to escape the way he did…and she really had not expected him to have a True Love.

“Are you certain?” she asked the Indigo Fairy, her spy amongst Ruel’s more rebellious followers. No one suspected Indigo, but the slight fairy had long been frustrated by Ruel’s inaction. Turning her had been easy.

“I saw it with my own eyes,” Indigo replied with a nod. “Blue did not know, but it was obvious that Lady Belle already did. Tinker Bell says they’re to be married.”

“I see.” The words were a growl; was Danns not careful, her anger would summon a storm. “How long have they been together?”

Longevity mattered. True Love had to be fought for. In the early days, it was much more fragile. Rumplestiltskin could not have just found this useless chit, could he have? There had been no evidence of True Love before— _Except I how he resisted you,_ a small voice inside her reminded the Black Fairy. True Love lent strength to even the darkest of souls. Between that and his son, even a fundamentally weak man might find courage. Damn. How could she not have seen that?

“Since before the Dark Curse, my Lady, although rumor says she was missing for—”

“I care not.”

A wave of her hand shooed Indigo off as Danns stewed. She would have to kill the girl. Either that, or completely rework her plans concerning the Dark One. Even if she forced the curse back into him, Rumplestiltskin would be able to free himself. Danns would not be foolish enough to count on the safeguards inherent in her curse, not this time. If he had fallen for this Belle before the Curse to End All Curses, he had still been the Dark One then. His curse should not have allowed for True Love, but Danns knew that it could not truly prevent it. Despite all the safeguards she had put in, despite the paranoia, the hunger for power, and the sharp edges, there was no curse in any world that could actually guard against Tue Love. Had he _wanted_ to fall in love, her curse could not have stopped him.

How _did_ someone so different take on that curse? Fifteen hundred years of flawless transference and utter darkness indicated that the weakness did not lie within her curse. No, the problem had to be inside Rumplestiltskin himself. _What made Zoso choose someone like_ this? _He should have known better!_ But, obviously, Zoso had not cared. Danns grimaced. Zoso had been one of those who were controlled for so long—and so foolishly—that he yearned for death. Of course he had passed it on to someone unsuitable. Rumplestiltskin had probably been the only one available at the time.

She would have to deal with this before she could move forward with her plans.

That must have been the girl who Norco had threatened, whom Rumplestiltskin had killed for. The disparate hints Danns had uncovered suddenly made sense. Now only one question remained: kill her, or choose another path entirely?

 

****************

 

On the fourth day of the Grand Council, the excitement of Rumplestiltskin nearly killing the Blue Fairy calmed. Discussions turned to how to best protect people from the ongoing threat of the fae, and the assembled monarchs finally seemed willing to listen to the magic users in their midst. Oh, Queen Leah muttered periodically about how people like Regina could not be trusted, but if Regina had cared what people like Leah thought, she would have gone to pieces long ago.

“Well, that was fun,” Robin said to her dryly as they broke for lunch.

Regina scowled. “I think your definition of ‘fun’ needs some work.”

“ _I_ think that you’re doing very well,” he replied with an innocent smile. “You haven’t lost your temper at all yet.”

“Barely.”

“Barely counts.” Robin grabbed her hands, pulling Regina towards the edge of the courtyard. “Now. How about those archery lessons I promised you?”

“Now?” Regina squeaked.

“You could use the break, I think,” her lover replied. “C’mon. Shooting things always makes me feel better, even if it is just straw targets.”

“I usually throw fire balls for that,” she admitted. _And it used to be at things more alive than straw targets._ But she let Robin pull her along. How long had it been since she’d done something fun, something just because she enjoyed it? Too long. Maybe Robin was right, and shooting arrows at targets _would_ make her feel better.

“Archery is much more elegant,” he retorted.

“Oh, is it now?”

“Indeed,” he grinned, leading her towards the archery butts in a smaller courtyard attached to the larger one where everyone seemed to gather when the Council went on break. “Allow me to prove it to you?”

Regina couldn’t say no to that smile, and she had always wanted to learn how to shoot. Her mother had always insisted that archery was not ladylike, and it was beneath Regina’s royal birth, but that hadn’t stopped her curiosity. Besides, Robin was supposed to be the best archer in the whole of the Enchanted Forest…and Regina treasured every moment that she could steal with him.

So she smiled and let her lover lead her over to the archery butts, her hand still held tightly in his. Little John was waiting with two bows and matching quivers, but the large man retreated after they arrived, giving Regina a smile instead of a bow. Robin’s best friend hadn’t approved of her at first, but nearly a year into their relationship, John had become someone that Regina could almost consider a friend of her own. (A hairy, obnoxious friend with somewhat poor personal hygiene, but a friend all the same.) She thought that John viewed her the same way; at least he’d stopped deferring to her at all months earlier. With a rough group like the Merry Men, that was probably a sign that they’d accepted her as one of their own.

“Ready?” Robin asked, offering her a mocking bow.

“You bet I am.”

 

****************

 

Purple smoke poured out of the lamp, and the voice that spoke sounded both coerced and annoyed. “Mistress mine, my will is thine. Tell me your wishes three.”

Rumplestiltskin let him say the entire spiel. Wisely, Regina had stuffed Jafar back into his lamp when the Grand Council had started getting interesting, which made the sorcerer rather disgruntled in addition to being clueless about what was going on. But there was no way that Rumplestiltskin wanted Jafar _too_ aware of what was happening, or at least not until he knew what side the genie was going to choose.

“I’m hardly your mistress, dearie,” he told the other man with a short laugh. “I’m lacking proper…parts.”

Jafar whirled around, and dark eyes evaluated him rapidly.

“Rumplestiltskin.” Jafar blinked. “Ah, of course. I didn’t recognize you without the more flamboyant features of your curse.”

“My former curse,” Rumplestiltskin corrected him, and watched Jafar show no surprise at all. _Damn Regina. She might have mentioned telling him that._

“So you want a genie’s power now that you lack your own. Or have less, anyway,” he amended, clearly feeling the magic in the air.

Rumplestiltskin could have—probably—disguised the presence his power created, but he’d not bothered to try. Doing so with someone like Jafar would always be tricky, anyway. Jafar _was_ as bright as his reputation indicated, and twice as powerful, even without the staff he’d once turned his old mentor into. Rumplestiltskin did not intend to underestimate him, so it was time to tread carefully. And carefully manage that which he let Jafar see and not see. After all, it would not do to have Jafar underestimate _him_ , either. Regina had already told Rumplestiltskin about the genie’s bid for freedom, and Rumplestiltskin had no intention of letting Jafar make a second go at that.

“I don’t want you for your power,” he replied easily, sitting back in his chair and openly studying the sorcerer. They were alone in the rooms Snow had given him and Belle, and intentionally so. Rumplestiltskin didn’t trust Jafar any further than he could throw him, and no matter what happened during this conversation, that wasn’t going to change.

“Then what do you want?” Jafar asked warily.

“That’s not the question you should be asking. The real question, dear, is what _you_ want,” Rumplestiltskin pointed out, and then gestured to the empty chair on the other side of the table he sat at. “Have a seat.”

Jafar hesitated, studying Rumplestiltskin right back for a long moment. Then the tricky sorcerer slowly lowered himself into the chair, sitting back and folding his hands. His dark eyes were narrowed, but otherwise he was the very picture of calm. This was the man who had wrested Wonderland out of the hands of a queen, who had manipulated intelligent enemies into doing his bidding, and who had changed the laws of magic. Jafar was dangerous through and through, and he was used to playing games with high stakes.

_But nothing like this_.

“I should think that is obvious,” Jafar said after a moment. “But you cannot give me what I want.”

“And if I could?”

“Even as the Dark One, you didn’t have the power to free a genie,” Jafar pointed out.

“But I’m not the Dark One anymore.”

“No, now you’re just a sorcerer.” Jafar smiled. “How does it feel to be normal after so long? What was it, two hundred years?”

Rumplestiltskin’s smile was thin. “Three.”

“Three hundred years, then. Did you know that you were a legend as the Dark One? Very few even remember that there ever _was_ a Dark One who wasn’t you. People thought you were invincible.” Jafar shrugged showily, and his smile reminded Rumplestiltskin of a shark. “They probably still do, since they don’t know any better. And I doubt you’ve disabused them of the notion.”

“I’m not a fool, no.”   Nor was he as powerless as Jafar seemed to think, but at least Regina hadn’t let that cat out of the bag.

“Still, I imagine it beats being controlled by the Black Fairy, now that she’s back in the game,” the other sorcerer commented. “Though I hear that you spent a bit of time with her recently. How _was_ that little vacation?”

“Exhilarating.” The little wiggle was reminiscent of the old days, but Rumplestiltskin didn’t mind. Anything that kept Jafar off guard was useful—because Jafar was clearly a student of magical history and knew far more than Rumplestiltskin had expected him to. _If only Regina had been such a diligent student!_ Rumplestiltskin had never met Jafar before, but he had known Amara. Briefly. When he’d met her she’d been desperate and furious, having had three sons just turned into genies and not wanting solutions. He’d turned her towards magic but hadn’t taught her; Amara had been in no shape to learn when Rumplestiltskin had last seen her. Iron John had later stumbled upon her and made her into a first rate sorceress, and she had taught Jafar.

And he was as brilliant as his teacher, only with fewer morals to get in the way.

“I bet it was,” Jafar replied, his dark eyes calculating.

“Are you done speculating, dear?” Rumplestiltskin cut in before Jafar could continue. “Because it won’t get you very far, and it’ll only waste my time. That, needless to say, is not something I appreciate.”

Jafar shrugged again. “I’m not sure if I care what you do or do not appreciate, frankly.”

That made Rumplestiltskin laugh—and wait. Fortunately, although Jafar was the patient sort, he was also the type to take every opportunity when offered, and Rumplestiltskin certainly offered him one. _Smoke and mirrors._ Magic was as much of a game of showing your opponent what you wanted them to see as it was about winning straight up battles, so he showed Jafar a wide opening in his defenses. It was a genuine opening _—_ anything less would never have sucked Jafar in—but when the genie struck, Rumplestiltskin allowed the full strength of his power to answer the attack.

The power hit Jafar like an invisible, fast-moving, wall, and it slammed him across the room until he bounced off the door. Hard.

Rumplestiltskin never so much as twitched, letting his magic do the work for him as he sat back and watched Jafar struggle to his feet, shaking his head dizzily. “I had to try, you understand.”

Rumplestiltskin just smiled slowly. “I may have forgotten to mention that there was an original power buried behind that curse, and breaking it may have unleashed that.”

“May?” Jafar coughed, and Rumplestiltskin could see respect glinting in his eyes. Yes, the door he’d opened had been worth it; Jafar was no fool, and caught on quickly. “ _Can_ you free a genie?”

“By sheer power? Possibly.” Now it was Rumplestiltskin’s turn to shrug. “But more importantly, a certain guardian of the Well of Wonders owes me a favor.”

“Nyx.” The word came out in a growl.

“Indeed.” If his smile was smug, who could blame Rumplestiltskin? He’d known that helping Nyx against that fire demon a century earlier would prove useful, although the details had been fuzzy at the time.

“Would you?” Jafar demanded.

“That depends upon you. I have certain…things I want out of you. If you fail to deliver, back in the lamp you go.” The genie started to answer, but Rumplestiltskin held up a hand. “And before you start thinking about double crossing me, consider two things: one, I am certainly not going to free you until you’ve done your part; and two, I can See the future.”

“And what do I have to do to earn my freedom?” Perhaps the genie laid the irony on a little too thick, and Rumplestiltskin could hear the bitterness making his tone thick. But he didn’t really care how Jafar _felt_. He only wanted Jafar to join their fight against the Black Fairy.

Would he ever trust him? No. But Rumplestiltskin always kept his deals.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he answered. “You join our fight against the Black Fairy—and the Blue Fairy, if she continues to prove difficult—and I’ll put your lamp where no one will be able to find it. After our little war is over, I’ll have Nyx free you.”

“How about you free me and then I’ll help you?” Jafar countered.

“Not a chance, dearie. Now. You take my deal, or you go back in the lamp and we fight this war without you. No exclusions, no changes, and certainly no second chances if you betray me.”

Jafar scowled. “I heard you almost killed the Blue Fairy a few days ago.”

“Regina talks too much.”

That earned him a shrug. “You can hear through the lamp.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted. “Take the deal or don’t, dear. I have politicians to intimidate.”

“I’ll have my freedom in the meantime?” Jafar asked cautiously; Rumplestiltskin could see him thinking it over, looking for a loophole. “And you’ll keep the lamp safe _without_ using wishes?”

There were several loopholes, of course, but if Jafar wanted to exploit them, he’d have to risk losing that which he wanted more than anything else. Rumplestiltskin didn’t think he was that stupid; why trade a certainty of freedom for a possibility of power? Having been trapped himself, although hardly in the way Jafar was currently experiencing, Rumplestiltskin knew what his answer would be. After all, the deal he’d proposed absolutely did not govern Jafar after he was released from the lamp. No sorcerer would commit themselves to another for their lifetime, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t want to deal with him for that long, anyway. Managing him in the meantime was going to be annoying enough.

“That you will,” he answered. “And I don’t want your wishes. That you can count on.”

“Fine.” At least Jafar was quick about it; once he made a decision, the man nodded briskly. “You have a deal. My assistance in exchange for my freedom.”

“Excellent.” A wave of his hand vanished the lamp, and Jafar jumped. It probably tickled, having his lamp sent halfway across the Enchanted Forest and into Rumplestiltskin’s vault, but he didn’t really care. He’d added another ally to their list, and more importantly, denied Danns one she would have been very interested in. “Now run along, dear. I’m not your babysitter.”

That was freedom he was offering, and Jafar didn’t have to be told twice; the sorcerer turned genie vacated the room in a hurry.

 

****************

 

Emma was really coming to hate politics. Not that she’d ever even _thought_ she’d like them, but the idiocy of the average politician was really starting to astound her. She supposed that it had something to do with the fact that none of these people had been elected to their positions—it come as something of a shock to realize that she now lived in a land where most people had no voice at all in how they were governed. Somehow, that fact hadn’t really sunk in before now, and everything Neal had ever mentioned about how things were _different_ here in the Enchanted Forest was really starting to make sense. There really was no one to check these monarchs (after all, Regina had been able to be the Evil Queen for _how_ many years, slaughtering people at her leisure) except themselves. But there was no punishment for ignoring their saner fellows, and peer pressure didn’t always work.

Queen Leah was _still_ mumbling about locking up all magical users from time to time, but she at least had the good sense to not do it around Rumplestiltskin or Regina. She didn’t seem to have caught on about shutting her mouth around Emma yet, but most of them seemed to look at Emma as something of an abnormality. Despite dozens of etiquette lessons, Emma had no chance of displaying her mother’s effortless grace and innate knowledge of protocol, which meant she was forever using the wrong fork or committing some equally heinous crime. Then she’d gone and (shotgun) married someone that none of the royals thought suitable. Except her parents. _They_ were delighted by the fact that Emma had decided to just _end_ this already and marry the man she’d fallen in love with at seventeen, but their unbridled joy was almost as annoying as the derision from their counterparts. Not that Emma cared what the other royals thought about her and Neal. Henry was happy, Neal was happy, and Emma was trying to remind herself that it was okay to be happy. Things on that front were looking up.

But not on the political front. Truthfully, she was starting to worry if things were _ever_ going to look up on the political front. That seemed to be the nature of politics, though, no matter what world you were in.

Emma bit back he scowl and pasted on something like a smile. It was a crummy smile, but she could fake being politely interested if she had to. (And she did.) The discussion was still raging onwards about what to do about this new war that was brewing, how to contain the fae and if the fairies would do their part. Blue had left shortly after Rumplestiltskin almost killed her, which meant Tink was now speaking for the fairies, but that didn’t mean Blue would actually _do_ anything that Tink committed them to. Which meant they were probably on their own against the fae. _Because if anyone would dare break a deal with Rumplestiltskin, it would be Blue_ , Emma thought grouchily. She really was sick of this game.

“I just received news of a pair of demons terrorizing the countryside,” King Hubert spoke up, for once appearing as something other than Leah’s ventriloquist’s dummy. At least Leah looked surprised to hear that, anyway.

“What type of demons?” Tink asked immediately, her head snapping around to look at Philip’s father.

“They appear to be made of shadows,” Hubert replied after looking at the note someone had handed him. Then he grimaced. “And they appear to also be periodically doing battle with one another.”

Emma bit back a groan. Her history of magic was rusty, but she _had_ read up on elemental demons after her encounter with the fire demon that had almost burned David to death. Tink, however, had even more experience with an entirely different demonic shadow, and did not so restrain herself.

“Shadow demons,” the green fairy repeated, her voice flat.

“Are there different kinds?” Leah demanded, as hostile as ever.

“Yes, actually,” Regina cut in, rolling her eyes. “Some demons fit in the palm of your hand and live underneath window ledges. Others are half the size of your castle and live in underground caves. And there’s an entire range of demons between those two extremes. So why don’t you let the experts figure out what this is without your oh-so- _educated_ interruptions?”

Well. Regina certainly wasn’t trying to make friends today. Emma half-wondered if Robin had kicked her out of the wrong side of the bed that morning, or if she was just having an off day. Either that, or Leah had just gotten on her last nerve, a feeling that Emma certainly could sympathize with. Queen Leah was a poster child for someone who _really_ could have benefited from some time in Storybrooke. Perhaps living as a ‘commoner’ would have taught her not to value her own opinion so highly.

Leah glared. Regina just looked at her, daring the other queen to say something. Emma, however, was not about to let this conversation go any further downhill than it had already, and spoke up:

“Look, what’s important is stopping the demons, right? We can probably do something about that.” She threw Regina a hard look. “Can’t we?”

“Obviously.” Regina rolled her eyes, but if there was anything the Evil Queen was good at, it was holding a grudge, so Emma paid her no mind.

Instead, she looked at Hubert, devoutly wishing that Philip was in his idiot father’s place. At least he’d demonstrated some common sense. “So,” she said pointedly. “Why don’t you tell us where these demons were last seen, and we’ll send someone to deal with them.”

Emma had a feeling that someone would be _her,_ of course, but maybe she could con Regina into coming along for the ride. Or perhaps she could dump this one on Rumplestiltskin. _He_ could probably kill both demons on his own, not that her father-in-law would ever volunteer for that kind of job. Her father-in-law. Damn. That _still_ took some getting used to.

 

****************

 

“I could have gone along,” his son said as Rumplestiltskin sat back in his chair, Regina’s outraged objections still ringing in his ears. She’d been miffed to be sent off after the demons, although Rumplestiltskin couldn’t tell if she was angrier over being dispatched to kill demons or having to do it with Emma Swan. Bae, however, was obviously unhappy for other reasons. “I don’t need magic to help. Robin went.”

Not smiling took all of Rumplestiltskin’s self-control; he was reminded of a hundred such conversations when Bae was younger, when his son wanted to do this thing or that thing and wasn’t _quite_ whining about it. Still, Bae _was_ a newlywed, even if his and Emma’s wedding had been a rather short-notice affair. That, however, meant that Bae intensely disliked the idea of being parted from his wife, even if Emma was heading into danger. To be fair, Bae _had_ been there the last time that Emma had gone head to head with an elemental demon, and he’d been the one who actually took the creature down with squid ink-tipped crossbow bolts. Rumplestiltskin still had that demon in storage; he was just waiting for the right moment to sic it on someone, probably one original power of a fairy or another. But they both knew that Bae wasn’t needed this time, not with Regina going along and Emma far better prepared to face off with a demon. So, Rumplestiltskin addressed the real issue, instead.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, son. Magic isn’t something you can learn halfway.”

Baelfire grimaced. “What, and be the only person in my family _not_ using it? If what you say about magic passing through exposure as well as by blood is true, Henry’s bound to end up with it, isn’t he? I mean, he’s already asking, but it’s going to be unavoidable, isn’t it?”

“It already is,” Rumplestiltskin confirmed.

“What?”

“Relax,” he reassured his son. “I told you before that thirteen is far too young to learn. It’ll stay that way until and unless his magic comes out on its own, and so far it has not.”

“How old is old enough?” Bae asked, looking both relieved and wary. His brown eyes were still a little wide, and despite what he said, Rumplestiltskin knew that his boy was still not entirely comfortable with magic in general. Too many horrors had visited Bae on the heels of power, and he was still trying to get used to the idea of magic as a part of his life.

“After puberty,” Rumplestiltskin replied without hesitation, just as he had last time. “Magic is emotion, and even the most stable teenager lives in an emotional whirlwind from time to time. He needs to be done with that before we can trust his emotions, and therefore his magic, to be under his control.”

“Is that what happened with you in the beginning?”

_“Are you afraid, son?” he had asked his beloved boy with blood on his hands, fury and strength and power racing through his bones. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Rumplestiltskin could indulge every whim and every desire, could hold nothing back. “I’m not afraid of anything.”_ Shaking himself free of the memories, Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath and focused on the present, pulling his mind away from thoughts of a demon sharing his soul, of having no limits and no reason to stop himself. He was no longer the Dark One. He no longer had to battle with himself simply to feel _love._

“Yes and no,” Rumplestiltskin answered more honestly than he would have even a few months earlier. But the longer he was without his curse, the easier the truth came. That was not to say that he was honest by nature—or would ever be—but he _could_ at least tell his son the truth that Baelfire deserved to hear. “I didn’t know anything about magic in the beginning. Had I known that I had to control my emotions to rein it in, I still might not have been able to, but it might not have been so…bad.”

“So I’m not going to wind up like…that?” Bae asked hesitantly.

“Certainly not. That was the curse, Bae, more than anything else. Do you know that little voice in your head that sometimes encourages you to do the worst you can do?”

“Yeah.”

“Imagine that voice too loud to ignore. Imagine that it has a personality and a life of its own, and it’s got its claws into your soul.   You can’t tune it out, and it demands blood and darkness in all that you do,” he said softly, relishing the silence in his mind and the stillness in his soul. At least now his sins were his own. “Imagine that…and you’ll still not understand it. At least I pray you never will.”

A moment of heavy silence passed between them.

“Gee, Pop, you’re really the optimist today,” his son finally replied with a crooked smile. “All you had to do is say that using magic wouldn’t drag me unknowingly down that road.”

“Ah. Well, I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic,” Rumplestiltskin said with a shrug, and then reached out to lay a hand Baelfire’s shoulder. “I won’t let you go down that road, Bae. I promise.”

“Thanks,” was the whispered response.

“Not that I think you’re terribly inclined, mind. You’ve always been a better man than I.” And he was more proud of Bae than words could express, even though he’d long been a master wordsmith. Rumplestiltskin hoped that his own smile communicated that; even if he’d been a terrible father more often than not.

Surprisingly, Bae reached up to place his hand on top of the one his father had put on his shoulder. “You’ve always been a good man, Papa. It just took me a long time to realize that it was buried, not gone.”

He had to swallow before he could reply at all.

“Thank you, Bae.”

The world really was a crooked place. His son had married the Savior, they had a wonderful (if precocious) son of their own, and somehow Rumplestiltskin had earned forgiveness. He _still_ wasn’t sure how he’d managed that, and yet here he was. Teaching his _son_ magic.

“Anytime, Papa. Now, how about that first lesson?”

“Of course.”

 

****************

 

The messenger missed Regina by less than an hour, and found himself wandering aimlessly around a strange castle. His teacher had told him to speak to no one but the Evil Queen, but what happened when the Evil Queen was nowhere to be found? No one knew when she would return or even where she had gone; the porter he had questioned had seemed to think he was mad for asking after her. But he couldn’t go back; he _needed_ her protection from those who were bound to be chasing him. So what could he do?

“Are you looking for my mom?” a young voice asked, and the messenger turned to look at a boy who was probably only a few years younger than he was.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” he answered honestly. _Talk to no one but Queen Regina,_ he had been told, but how was he supposed to do that when she wasn’t here?

“The porter said that you were looking for Queen Regina,” the brown-haired teen clarified. “She’s my mom. Or one of them, anyway.”

“How can someone have two mothers?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Regina adopted me. Then I found my real mom, too. It’s a long story,” was the cheerful response. “I’m Henry.”

He shouldn’t have accepted the offered hand, but the smile was friendly, and Henry really wasn’t much younger than he was. He didn’t know how long he’d spent trapped in the lands of the fae, only that his ticket to freedom lay in finding Queen Regina and relaying his message. But Henry was her son, and perhaps that meant Henry would help him. _Someone_ had to help him.

“I’m Aladdin,” he answered after a moment’s thought.

Henry smiled. “Really? That’s so cool. I’ve heard of you!”

“What?” He jumped. No one was supposed to know his name. Maleficent said he would be safe so long as he remained anonymous. But if people knew, then the fae could find out, and then… _Oh, no._

“Sorry. Um. You were…well, it’s really hard to explain what a movie is if you’ve never seen one. I take it you weren’t in Storybrooke?”

“Where’s that?”

“A long way away. A whole ‘nother world, really,” Henry replied. “Don’t worry about it. What did you need my mom for?”

“I have a message for her,” he replied, glad to shift the conversation away from the confusing topic of a place he’d never heard of. “And only her.”

“Sure,” Henry replied easily. “But I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“Oh.”

“You want to come up to my rooms and wait? No one will bother you there.”

How had Henry guessed that he was worried about that? Aladdin reminded himself to stop looking over his shoulder as if he expected one of the fae to pop out and capture him. _Again._ But it was hard.   Everyone he knew had been captured by the fae, and most of them were dead already, or worse. Maleficent had saved him, had taught him a little magic, but she’d sent him here to her friend Regina and told him that Regina would help him more.

He had to find Regina.

But for now, Aladdin just nodded and followed Henry up to his rooms, not knowing what else to do other than wait.

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…the plot is thickening and we’re approaching the final battle. What do you think Aladdin’s message is, and do you think that the Black Fairy will try to kill Belle?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter Fifty-Two: “Tempered and Tested”, where Regina returns, an unexpected visitor arrives, and someone faces the consequences of their choices. In the meantime, please tell me what you think!


	53. Tempered and Tested

**_Chapter Fifty-Two—“Tempered and Tested”_ **

 

Regina had returned sometime in the middle of the night, long after Henry had found Aladdin a place to sleep.  Well, he’d really wound up convincing Tinker Bell to conjure up a second bed in his own room for the older boy, which turned out to be a great idea, since both his moms had arrived too late to talk at all.  But Henry was glad to see Regina at breakfast the next morning, even if she and Emma were already sniping at one another across a platter of meat and eggs.  The two sorceresses had somehow wound up sitting on either side of his father, who looked more than a little befuddled by the whole arrangement.  He also didn’t look very awake, more dazed and groggy than either of Henry’s mothers.

Their argument didn’t even pause when Henry led Aladdin in, and he wasn’t sure either noticed his new friend at all.

“What in the world possessed you to try a freezing spell on a water demon?” Regina demanded as Henry gestured Aladdin towards a seat in the small dining room Snow and David had set aside for the family only.  The darker skinned boy hesitated, looking back at Henry with wide and owlish eyes.

He got the impression that even this private dining room was far grander than Aladdin was used to.  Based on their conversations the night before, Henry gathered that Aladdin was an orphan and had been one for a long time.  He hadn’t asked, but he guessed that the other teen had been a thief before the fae got him—or at least he had been one in the movie that Henry remembered seeing as a kid back in Storybrooke.  Movies in the Land Without Magic weren’t always accurate, but they tended to be pretty close.  And that meant palaces were a _really_ new experience for Aladdin, even if the older boy did try really hard to hide his curious shock.

Idly, Henry wondered if Aladdin had met Jasmine yet, or if telling him that he’d fall in love with a princess might change things too much. 

“Hey, it worked,” Emma retorted, glaring at Regina over a cup of tea.  His birth mother was still annoyed by the lack of coffee in the Enchanted Forest, Henry knew.  She certainly complained about it often enough that Grandpa Gold had told her that if she found coffee beans, he’d find a way to enchant them into growing.  But to be fair, he really missed things like soda and potato chips, too.

“Until the earth demon almost swallowed you whole.”

“So sorry if I thought _you_ were handling that one.”

Regina rolled her eyes.  “It’s not my fault that you got in the way.”

“I was trying to kill the water demon!”

“Did you do it?” Henry cut in before his other mother could continue their—apparently good-natured—argument.  Neither actually seemed angry at the moment, but Henry wasn’t taking any chances. 

“Of course we did,” they answered in unison.

“Actually, not to be the kill joy here,” Robin drawled, walking into the room with Roland at his side, “but I do believe that the demons killed one another.”

Emma shot the outlaw a dirty look.  “Only because we tricked them into it.”

Robin grinned cheekily.  “And whose idea was that?”

Emma grumbled wordlessly.  Regina beamed.

“And we’re very grateful,” she replied, but Henry saw humor dancing in her eyes as she smiled innocently in return.  “So long as _you_ remember who saved you from the pair of them when they thought you might be tasty.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Robin replied airily, plopping into a chair two down from Henry.  Roland scrambled up between them, and Henry shot the younger boy a smile as his own father took advantage of the pause in the argument to ask:

“Who’s your friend, buddy?”

“This is Aladdin,” Henry replied, and watched Baelfire’s eyebrows go up.  Yeah, he’d expected his dad to catch on, even if Emma would probably take a bit longer.  By now he knew which one of his parents had been more up to date on Disney movies back in the other world; even in New York, Emma had never really be into cartoons.  Video games, sure; bail bondswoman Emma Swan had dug adventure games.  But not so much cartoons.

Regina, of course, had no idea why the name of Aladdin would be significant (she’d popped that movie into the VCR for Henry more than once and never watched it), so she was the one who asked the obvious question.  Her manner wasn’t unkind, however; at sixteen, Aladdin was below the age barrier where Henry’s adopted mother started greeting strangers with hostility.  “What brings you here, Aladdin?”

Aladdin gulped, having been mid-bite and swallowing hastily.  Henry’s suspicions on how rough his new friend’s life had been were undoubtedly correct; he’d started wolfing down his breakfast the moment a servant had placed it in front of him.

“I have a message for you, My Lad—erm, Your Majesty,” he said hurriedly, and Henry tried to give him a reassuring glance.  Aladdin didn’t seem to notice.  “From Maleficent.”

_That_ made Regina sit up straight.  “Maleficent sent you?”

“Yes.”  Aladdin bobbed his head nervously.  “She, uh, rescued me when the fae raided Agrabah a few months ago.  She’s been teaching me some magic, so I was able to slip out and get here.”

“That couldn’t have been easy,” Henry’s dad commented, and Henry could see that he was right by the stricken look on Aladdin’s face.

“Not really,” the other teen muttered.

“What did she want you to tell me?” Regina cut back in.

“She said that the Black Fairy is going to resurrect a Dark One?” Aladdin answered uneasily, as if reciting words he had memorized.  “Somehow.  I didn’t understand how.  Something about duplicating a curse.  And that she thinks she’s been found out.”

“She what?” Regina gaped, and even Henry felt his eyes go wide.  Aladdin hadn’t been willing to tell Henry the message the night before, so now his mind was whirling.  Maleficent being found out was bad enough, but could the Black Fairy resurrect a different Dark One?  Someone other than Grandpa Gold?  They would have to ask him if that was even possible.

“Wait a minute,” Emma interjected, looking at her husband and echoing Henry’s thoughts word for word.  “Is that even possible?”

His dad shrugged.  “How would I know?  I was fourteen when Pop took on that curse, and I wasn’t there for him actually doing it.”

“You said Maleficent has been found out,” Robin asked as the other three exchanged worried glances.  “Is she still alive?”

“She was when I left,” Aladdin replied, looking worried.  But he would worry, wouldn’t he?  Aladdin had spoken kindly of his teacher the night before, though he hadn’t said it was Maleficent then.  Of course he cared for her.  She’d rescued him from what even Henry knew would have been the horrible fate of some other fae claiming him.

“Let me guess,” Regina said dryly, “she said not to come after her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.  But you can’t get in, anyway.  No one but the fae can.  Even I can’t go back now that I got out.”

“Got out of where?” a new voice interrupted, and Henry turned to see his grandparents standing in the doorway.  Regina took point.

“We have a problem,” she answered David’s question bluntly as Graham started to fuss.  “A big one.”

 

****************

 

Snow supposed she should not be surprised to find herself confiding in Belle; they really were very alike.  Both believed in doing what was right, in fighting for what they believed in, and in not giving up until the world was a better place.  They had fallen in love with two very different men, which probably accounted for the fact that they’d never been terribly close, but these days Snow found that she had more in common with Belle than not.  The other woman might not possess Snow’s skill on the battlefield—though she always did try—but Belle’s fierce intelligence and innate ability to understand people were certainly traits Snow could respect.  That, of course, was why she’d asked Belle to join her for a walk through the gardens on the fifth day of the Grand Council.

“They seem happy,” Belle commented idly, nodding towards where Regina and Robin were at the archery butts again.  Regina was laughing, and the smile on her face made her look so much younger, like the woman Snow had once wanted so badly to be her mother.  This reminded Snow of how carefree Regina had been before Daniel’s death, of the good woman that Regina _could_ be if she wanted to.  The wounds in Regina’s soul really _were_ healing, and Snow was so grateful to finally have a good relationship with her stepmother.

“They do,” Snow replied with a smile.  “And I’m so glad for them.  Regina deserves happiness.”

Snow would never really forgive herself for what had happened with Daniel, even though she’d come to understand how Cora had manipulated her.  She’d only been a child, and Cora had taken ruthless advantage of her naivety, but Regina’s heart had been broken and an innocent man had been murdered.  She and Regina had finally put those events behind them, but a part of Snow’s heart would always feel heavier due to her role in them.

“She does,” Belle agreed, but then continued after a glance over her shoulder.  They’d managed to stroll away from the prying ears of the others wandering in the courtyard, so Belle’s voice grew serious.  “What did you want to talk about?”

Belle didn’t beat around the bush; Snow really liked that about her.  So, she answered with equal candidness:

“Politics.”  David had once said that he did the fighting while Snow did the talking, but Snow really would rather be fighting now.  “Your father might be only a knight, but he is old friends with King Hubert.  Do you think he might be willing to speak to him on our behalf?”

“I can ask.  I think Papa would be happy to help.”

It went without saying that they needed to pry Hubert away from Queen Leah; Philip was doing all he could to convince his father to stop supporting Leah’s antagonistic policies, but the ties of their children’s marriage and friendship were hard to break.  Aurora could do nothing to convince her mother to work with her friends, so it was time to start prying Leah’s allies away from her.  Maybe Leah would be more reasonable if she had fewer people backing her.

“Thanks,” Snow said feelingly, but Belle speared her with a frank look.

“That can’t be all you wanted to talk about,” the brunette guessed wisely.

“No, it isn’t,” Snow said slowly, and then hesitated.  She and David had discussed this already, but part of her still felt bad.  Telling Belle felt _almost_ like a betrayal, but how much of that was just her habit of trusting the Blue Fairy?  She knew what she had to do.  Trusting too easily had destroyed her life, and Regina’s, once before.  Snow would not make that mistake again.  She would _not_ let Blue manipulate her the way Cora once had.  Not this time.  Their family—now officially linked through Emma and Baelfire, and not just Henry—was fragile enough.  Snow would not let her old belief in Blue ruin that.

Blue had made her choices.  Snow would make her own without hesitation.  She squared her shoulders and continued:

“I was wondering if you would tell Rumplestiltskin something for David and I,” she said slowly.  “I think…I think it’s better if certain people assume he _doesn’t_ know, or I would tell him myself.”

Snow was no coward, after all, and she didn’t need Belle to deliver bad news for her.  Besides, she didn’t think Rumplestiltskin would be particularly surprised, not after Blue had succeeded in placing him under a sleeping curse.  _I think that was the last straw for me.  Bad enough that Blue tried to manipulate us, but I_ know _how a sleeping curse can haunt you forever.  And if she can do that to_ anyone _, Blue never was who I thought her to be._

“Go on,” Belle prompted her.

“David told you both that Blue tried to get him to kill Rumplestiltskin,” Snow replied bluntly after one more look to make sure no one was listening.  “Before she resorted to the sleeping curse.  She might have just made a deal with him to save her life, but I think she still wants him dead…or under the curse once more.  In fact, I think that she would rather him be the Dark One than anything else.”

“I wish I was surprised,” Belle breathed grimly, and Snow nodded in agreement.  She _really_ wished she was surprised—and a year earlier, she would have been utterly shocked by Blue’s actions—but now she wasn’t.

“I keep thinking about what she said the other day, about how Rumplestiltskin is too unpredictable to be trusted,” she continued.  “But I don’t think Blue was just talking about him. I think she was talking about _all_ of us.”

“About humans.”

Snow hated to say it, but—“Exactly.”

“I’ve been reading a lot of history lately,” Belle mused.  “Mostly about magic, and what happened when many powerful human magic users rose in the same time period.  I found some interesting things, including the fact that this isn’t the first time Blue has come out against humans gathering ‘too much’ power.”

“I always wondered why there were so few powerful sorcerers around,” Snow admitted.  “Stories always talk about them, but there really was only Rumplestiltskin, Regina, and Cora when we were growing up.  And Maleficent, if she counts.”

“I think that’s how the fairies like things, actually.  I’ve found four circumstances over the last fifteen hundred years when humanity started to stand up for ourselves, and the same thing happened every time.”

A sick feeling was starting to grow in Snow’s stomach, one thick with dread and foreboding.  She almost didn’t want to ask: “And what was that?”

“The Dark One killed the strongest human sorcerers until only three or four remained.  Sometimes less,” Belle answered.

“But why?” Snow hadn’t expected that.  What did the Dark One have to do with Blue?  Blue had always hated—

“The dagger,” Belle cut into her thoughts.  “Three of the four times it happened, someone other than the Dark One had the dagger.”

“What about the other one?”

“It wasn’t Rumple, if that’s what you’re asking.  But I don’t know why that one acted.  Still, it’s pretty compelling evidence, isn’t it?  After all, it wouldn’t be the first time that Blue manipulated a monarch or noble into doing her bidding and blamed someone else for it.”

“No.  It wouldn’t,” she said quietly, remembering her own last conversation with the senior fairy.

She’d trusted Blue once, trusted her above all others.  But Snow was done with her.  If Blue wanted Snow to ever trust her again, she would have to work for it.

“Tell Rumplestiltskin that we’ll stand by him,” she added impulsively. “He’s not the only one who can stand by family, and it’s high time that we admitted that he’s earned our trust.”

Belle smiled and reached out briefly to squeeze Snow’s hand.  “He’ll be glad to hear that.  He may not say so, but I know he will.”

“Good.”

Snow didn’t regret it.  Even when she parted ways with Belle later and told David about the conversation, she didn’t regret a single word.  Oh, she and David—and Emma, too—had had their differences with Rumplestiltskin, but now they _were_ family.  And he was no longer the Dark One.  Rumplestiltskin had defended their mutual grandson, and had fought with them despite what was probably his own inclination to do things in his own way and on his own terms.  Snow wanted him to know that she appreciated that, even if she’d passed the message along in a roundabout way.

 

****************

 

Jhudora was suspicious, and Maleficent was fairly certain that Vidia had covered her tracks more than once.  When she’d sent Aladdin away, she had been positive that discovery was imminent, and with that her death.  It was sure to be a messy death, too; the fae did not take betrayal or defiance well at all.  Still, Maleficent had known the risks going in, and could face the consequences of her actions bravely if it came to that.  She had been prepared for the worst—and then nothing happened.

Well, not nothing.  Now she found herself closeted with Danns' a'Bhàis, half certain that the Black Fairy saw right through her lies.  Maleficent had studiously avoided a one-on-one conversation with her, but now she had no choice.

“You knew Zoso, yes?” the taller fairy asked after Jhudora left the room.  It was not the opening that Maleficent had expected; if this was an interrogation, it was a very strange one.

“I did,” she replied with the brazenness that she had become known for amongst the fae.  Maleficent was independent; she did not fawn or flatter, and she would not bow and scrape, even to the Queen of all Fae.

“And?” Danns asked sharply, her green eyes narrowing.  Apparently she expected more than simple yes or no answers, and Maleficent reminded herself to appear loyal.  If she hadn’t been discovered, now was not the time to out herself.  Besides, she could freely divulge information on this topic without worrying for any of her true allies.  Zoso was dead, and even if the Black Fairy did resurrect him, this information could not harm Regina or the others.

“If I knew what you wanted to know, I could be more helpful.” Maleficent shrugged in the face of Danns’ irritation.  Danns' a'Bhàis was not the sort to lash out at those she believed faithful, and so far Maleficent had given her no real reason to doubt her.

Still, the Black Fairy glared at her, her silver and black dress whipping around her as her anger unleashed small tendrils of her magic.  The next question was spoken in clipped tones: “You have known several Dark Ones.  Where would you rank him?”

“Last,” she replied bluntly.  “He was betrayed by a friend shortly after taking on—seeking out—the curse.  He nearly escaped control several times, but never managed to and wound up serving several generations of his ‘friend’s’ family.  He was no sorcerer, just a creature of power, rage, and darkness.  All of his power came from the curse, and his knowledge with it.”

“As well as his bitterness.”

“Of course.  I met him a few times and was not impressed.”

“How would his loyalty be won?” Danns asked perceptively, startling Maleficent.  She had not thought that the Black Fairy would care about that, not given how she had treated Zoso’s successor.

“Power.  Power and freedom,” Maleficent answered honestly after a moment’s thought, and then grimaced.  “Give him the freedom to abuse others and he would undoubtedly be yours.”

It took a lot to sicken Maleficent; she had seen more atrocities than her share in her long life.  But she remembered Zoso’s…eccentricities well enough to feel a little uneasy.  Oh, she had been guilty of plenty of evil deeds in her heyday, but she had never been Zoso’s type.  The old Dukes of the Frontlands used to keep their pet Dark One sated with a steady diet of attractive young women, few of whom had survived the encounter and none of which had lasted long.  Zoso had always been more vicious than creative, but he had been bad enough.  Danns' a'Bhàis would undoubtedly indulge those habits, too, provided it kept a resurrected Zoso loyal.  She’d never give him the kris dagger, of course, but Maleficent knew that the Black Fairy was wise enough to win his allegiance rather than forcing it.

_You’d best have hidden that damn dagger well, Rumplestiltskin,_ she thought behind a bored but attentive expression.  _I don’t fancy sharing meals with that monster._

 

****************

 

Did she need the dagger?

Rumplestiltskin didn’t know.  Although he knew little of what it would take to resurrect a dead Dark One from the Vault, instinct told him that to do so, Danns would need to wrest the kris dagger out of his control.  After all, she had needed it to make _him_ the Dark One once more; if she was going to bypass Rumplestiltskin entirely, she would at least need it to control whoever—Zoso?—she resurrected.  Even if she could pull a Dark One from the Vault without it, there was no other way to control him.  And Rumplestiltskin knew from personal experience that Danns' a'Bhàis was not the sort to accept less than total control.

Just thinking about that made him shudder.

The moment he’d heard about her plans, Rumplestiltskin had hurried to go back to the Dark Castle to verify that the dagger was safe.  He’d called it to him briefly to threaten Blue, but had sent Circe’s dagger back into safekeeping after he was done, not willing to risk leaving it out in the open.  Only the special box he’d created could guard it from the Black Fairy, threaded through with Circe’s bone fragments as it was.  Out in the open, Danns could easily claim the dagger again; Rumplestiltskin was not certain that he would have been able to stop her from doing so even if the dagger was physically in his hand.  He was an original power, but would that be enough to counter her?  Probably not.  Perhaps that fear was merely borne of paranoia, but now he was he was damn glad he had indulged that instinct. 

Rumplestiltskin didn’t like admitting how much Regina’s news unsettled him, but knowing that Danns intended to resurrect his predecessor was…terrifying.  Never mind any grudges Zoso might have against him; Rumplestiltskin could deal with that.  But he knew firsthand how difficult a Dark One could be to defeat, along with exactly what it would take to kill one.  So long as Danns had the dagger—if she got it—killing Zoso would be impossible, and heavens only knew what havoc she would send her pet to wreak.

He shouldn’t care about that.  Once, he wouldn’t have.  But now his son had married into the royalty of one kingdom and Rumplestiltskin was involved _._   Like it or not, he could no longer sit back and scoff at the antics of mere mortals.  He no longer lived on the edges of events and influenced them on a whim or not at all.  He _couldn’t_.  Even if this new power of his would allow him to act like that, Rumplestiltskin could no longer seriously contemplate doing so.  For better or worse, whatever happened—whatever demon Danns hauled out of darkness and into the light—Rumplestiltskin was a part of things.  And that meant he had to keep the dagger safe.

Never mind his own personal reasons for doing so, for making sure the weapon that had once owned his very soul was safe.  Even if he could discount that—and he couldn’t—Rumplestiltskin had to make sure the dagger was safe for the sake of the world.  _The irony of this situation is great enough to make me laugh, were things not so serious,_ Rumplestiltskin thought with a twisted smile, placing his hands on the first of the wards surrounding the box he stored the dagger in.  Immediately, he knew that his safeguards were intact, that his vault buried deep underneath the Dark Castle remained secure, but he still needed to see the dagger for himself.  Just to be certain.  The outer layers were guarded by more than blood magic; contact with his living skin was required to open this first layer, along with a very particular spell that only Rumplestiltskin knew. 

Seconds passed—enough, probably, to dissuade anyone who impossibly got past this layer of protections—before the outer stone box slid open, revealing the second box.  This chest was made of bronze and lined with silver, both elements with significant magical properties of their own.  The next box was gold, _his_ gold, and the final one plain wood.  But not just any wood.  The wood used to create that box was from the tree that grew over Circe’s grave, and was lined with those fragments of Circe’s bones.  _That_ final defense was what kept the dagger out of Danns’ hands, for Circe had forged it long before the Black Fairy had made it her own. No matter who held it, the dagger had been Circe’s first, and would always answer _her_ call before that of even the Black Fairy.  But now Rumplestiltskin needed to touch it, to hold the dagger in his hands and reassure himself that it was safe.

“Always the coward, eh, dearie?” he murmured to himself, running the fingers of his right hand over the blade.  The grip was as cold as ice in his left hand, and Rumplestiltskin could feel the curse moving within the dagger. 

The demon still burned for release, fought against the bounds of the dagger and searched for a path back inside him.  Rumplestiltskin was the curse’s preferred host, but the feeling he received from the demon was that of increasing desperation.  He was beginning to think that the curse was approaching the point where it would accept any host it was offered, even if that host no longer also acted as a carrier of Merlin’s power.  _And isn’t that just ducky?  The curse might have been pickier before, but it’s definitely desperate enough now to go back into a previous host._ A shiver tore down his spine, and Rumplestiltskin frowned.

He hated himself for being afraid.  Hated the lump that welled up in his throat and the tension racing through his bones.  Rumplestiltskin might have sidestepped Danns’ attempt to enslave him once more, but he still wasn’t eager to face her.  In fact, the mere thought was enough to make his breath grow short, and—

Without warning, power swept through his mind like a warm wind, jarring Rumplestiltskin out of his fear and hitting him hard enough to make him stumble.  The force of the blow almost knocked the dagger straight out of his hands, and Rumplestiltskin found himself dropping it in the box before he’d even finished realizing what magic had sent a chill racing down his spine.  Quickly, meticulously, he closed up every box, every level of protection, forcing himself to pay careful attention to each even though he wanted nothing more than to leave the Dark Castle without a second thought.  But he could not.  Much though he wanted to race to Belle’s side immediately, he could not afford for the dagger to fall into Danns’ hands because he was distracted.

_Please let this be nothing but a distraction.  Please let me not be too late._   Now the fear he felt was of an entirely different sort; it was not for himself, but for his True Love.  Belle _should_ have called him before someone attacked her with enough power to trigger the defensive spells Rumplestiltskin had woven into the engagement ring he’d given her, but for some reason she had not.  Had she not been able to?  Rumplestiltskin was afraid to find out, but he was certainly not going to delay racing to her side any longer than he had to.

The final box snapped shut, and Rumplestiltskin teleported out of his vault, gathering power to him as he went.

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think has happened to Belle, and what will Rumplestiltskin do?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter Fifty-Three: “Before the Dawn”, in which the fate of the world hangs in balance.


	54. Before the Dawn

**_Chapter Fifty-Three—“Before the Dawn”_ **

 

Belle and Snow had just stepped back into the main courtyard when the commotion began.  The loudest voice Belle could hear was—predictably—that of Queen Leah, who was objecting to something or another that someone else had said.  Typically, Leah spoke arrogantly, but there was a hint of something more hesitant in her voice, an odd note Belle had never heard from her before.  Quickly, however, Regina interjected, her tone hard and hostile:

“Come for another round, have you?” the Evil Queen demanded, and something in her voice made Belle and Snow both quicken their pace, pushing through the suddenly dense crowd—why _was_ everyone in the courtyard instead of inside?—as royals, nobles, and sorcerers stood frozen in place.

Belle had just managed to step around her father (whose body language screamed _terror!_ in ways she only seen once, when Rumplestiltskin had shown up that first time) when a laughing soprano replied:

“I’m hardly interested in you.  Step aside.”

“What makes you think I care what you’re interested in?” Regina retorted as Belle’s eyes found the tall queen of the fae. 

Their enemy’s hazel eyes were burning brightly, and every line of her body exuded power.  Her silver and black dress was already billowing out behind her, swept up in a wind that touched no one else; it was obviously driven by magic and was potent enough to make a chill run down even Belle’s spine.  How must Regina feel, facing down the fae who had nearly killed her just a few months earlier?  The Evil Queen didn’t exhibit so much as a hint of fear; her shoulders were squared and her expression haughty, but she _had_ to be worried.  Facing the Black Fairy alone had torn her to shreds last time, and Regina was no fool.  She couldn’t win this battle, and that meant Regina was playing for time.

But Emma stepped up next to her former enemy before the Black Fairy could reply, and Belle suddenly felt her heart leap.  Perhaps the two of them might be able to—

 _Call me,_ the words echoed in her mind, spoken the night after Blue had spiked Rumplestiltskin’s drink with a sleeping potion.  _If either of them ever comes near you, call me immediately_ , her fiancé had told her.  Now both fairies knew they were True Love, Rumplestiltskin had reminded Belle, and that was dangerous.  Particularly to Belle, who had never been talented with or interested in magic, and could not defend herself if either the Blue or Black Fairy decided to target her.  Belle knew she was vulnerable.  She refused to let that frighten her, but she understood that it wouldn’t be very hard for either of them to use her to threaten Rumple.  Belle had never lacked courage, but she wasn’t going to be stupid, either.  Even if she knew that Rumple feared facing the Black Fairy—and had stood witness to far too many of his nightmares to think otherwise—she knew he would rather be here.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered under her breath, too quietly for the Black Fairy to hear. 

Or so she thought.

Danns’ a'Bhàis’ head whipped around to look right at her, hazel eyes burning into Belle’s own Blue.  The too-perfect face immediately creased into a smile, vicious and hard.

“Calling your lover won’t help you, girl,” the darkest fairy purred.  “Rumplestiltskin can’t hear you.”

Despite herself, Belle swallowed.  Norco had been terrifying enough when he’d talked of making her his toy; the Black Fairy was much more dangerous and much less playful.  Her smile, for example, was not light at all.  It was that of a predator who had zeroed in on their prey and was about to feast.

“Leave her alone,” Emma cut in forcefully, still at Regina’s side.  The two of them were almost between Belle and the Black Fairy, but not quite.

“Now why would I do that?” the Black Fairy countered.  “I mean her no harm—for the moment.  For now, I’m merely curious what type of girl won the heart of my Dark One.”

“He’s not yours,” Belle shot back, unable to stop herself.  “And he’s not the Dark One any longer, either.  He’s free of your horrible curse.”

“For the moment,” the fairy purred, stepping forward only to find Emma in her path.  Emma seemed to crackle with power, too; not as much as the Black Fairy, but still dangerous and brave.  Regina was right there with her, and a corner of Belle’s mind marveled at what a great team they made.  They’d hated one another for so long, fought over Henry, Storybrooke, and everything else, but now the Evil Queen and the Savior stood side by side, ready to defend Belle, of all people.  Their intervention brought the Black Fairy up short.  She scowled.  “Stand aside.”

The dismissive tone obviously didn’t sit well with Emma.  “Make me,” the Savior retorted.

Regina’s smile was a taunt all by itself.  “If you can.”

One porcelain white hand waved loftily, and suddenly both sorceresses were thrown backwards.  Belle thought she heard Robin shout Regina’s name as the Evil Queen slammed into a wall almost fifty feet away from where she’d been standing just moments before, but she hardly had time to notice that.  Nor did she notice who Emma flew into as power swept her off her feet; suddenly, the Black Fairy was standing in front of her, hazel eyes gleaming with victory and her face only inches from Belle’s own.

“Belle of Avonlea,” the taller woman purred. 

Silence reigned; Belle saw no reason to reply.  A long finger reached out to land under her chin and force her head up at an uncomfortable angle.  Belle could have pulled away, but chose not to, even when a nail dug slightly into the underside of her jaw. She refused to wince, and met the gaze of the fairy who had tortured her True Love without flinching.  Her heart might have been racing, but Belle would not show fear.  _Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow._   Odd how it was those words Rumple would remember out of all the things she had once said to him, but they fit now.  Again.

“What _is_ it that he sees in you?” her opponent asked softly.  Jealously?

“You wouldn’t understand,” Belle answered honestly.

Irritation flicked across the Black Fairy’s face.  “Try me.”

“I accept him for who he is,” Belle retorted boldly.  “And I would never forcehim to do anything he doesn’t want to.”

 _And I would never, not in a million years,_ hurt _him,_ Belle didn’t say.  _I understand how fragile he is beneath all that power, and I make him stronger._

Rumplestiltskin made her stronger, too.  True Love did that.  Before falling in love with him, Belle would never have imagined facing off with the two most powerful fairies in all of creation, and she’d looked both in the eye and told them what she thought of them.  Oh, she’d been courageous enough to go with Rumplestiltskin even when she’d been terrified, but Belle knew she’d grown stronger during her time with him.  They each made the other stronger, and that was what mattered.   _True Love has to be fought for,_ Rumple had told her a hundred times.  And they’d fought for one another.

“I love him,” she finished strongly, daring the Black Fairy to prove her wrong.  Belle knew she couldn’t.

“Of course you do,” the fae sneered, but something in her disdainful expression told Belle that her words had touched a nerve.  “Humans always think you have a monopoly on love.”

 _She loved Merlin,_ Belle reminded herself, feeling a tiny flicker of pity for the Black Fairy.  She’d loved the man she had destroyed.  When she thought Rumplestiltskin was Merlin, had she hoped for a second chance?   Belle could not so much as imagine hurting the man she loved the way the Black Fairy had hurt Merlin—or the way she had hurt Rumple!—but she did understand the beauty and the agony of receiving a second chance.  Perhaps some of the hostility Belle was now faced with was borne of heartbreak more than hatred.  Belle could empathize with the Black Fairy, just a little bit, at least until she thought of what the tall redhead had done to Rumplestiltskin.

He still had nightmares from that year of hell she’d made him suffer through.  He probably always would.

“And Rumplestiltskin loves me,” Belle shot back, anger making her voice fierce, throwing caution to the winds.  “Nothing you can do will change that.”

“No, but I _can_ kill you.” The disdainful voice turned soft and deadly-dangerous in an instant, and Belle suddenly felt power building around her.  The Black Fairy smiled at Belle, but the expression was more of a snarl as she asked: “And how well do you think that your True Love will weather the howling emptiness losing you will cause in his heart?”

Belle felt cold.  She shouldn’t have taunted the Black Fairy, and she knew it.  Was she about to pay the price?

Warmth spread through her left palm, and it took Belle a moment to realize that it was coming from her engagement ring, the ring one she’d only been able to wear for a handful of days so far.  What was going on?

 _“My magic,”_ Rumplestiltskin had told her _.  “Designed to keep you safe from anyone and anything.  Even me.”_

“Hey!” It was Emma’s voice that shouted, but Belle somehow knew that it was Regina who threw magic at the Black Fairy.  The Evil Queen and the Savior had both shaken off the effects of having been thrown away earlier, and now both were back in the fight.  Or wanted to be.

A second careless wave of the Black Fairy’s hand send magic crashing out at both sorcerers while she sneered.  “Wait your turn.”

 _They really do see us as children, don’t they?_ Belle thought with sudden clarity, thinking back on her conversation with Snow.  Both fairies wanted humans compliant and controllable; sorceresses like Regina and Emma were too powerful and would not be tolerated.  Belle realized in a flash that the pair of them probably _could_ stand up to the Black Fairy, but not like this—they were working together, but not as a team.  So long as Regina and Emma attacked separately, the Black Fairy could sweep them aside like features in the wind.

But there was nothing feather-like in the way both bounced off of the furthest castle wall; Belle heard bones crunch and saw blood splatter out of the corner of her eye.  Snow shouted her daughter’s name and Robin tried to catch Regina, only to wind up smashed into the wall with her.  All three bodies fell together, but Robin seemed to be the only conscious one in amongst them.  Snow ran to Emma while Robin tried to get up; Charming was edging towards Belle as if to offer support, but she could hardly see him from where she was standing.  When she tried to turn towards the others, Belle found her feet would not work; she was rooted to the spot much the same way Norco had once trapped her, and she felt her pounding heart race still faster.  Yet she still noticed Baelfire quietly working his way towards Emma.  He wasn’t foolish enough—or experienced enough—to try to force his way into this fight, but Belle knew her future stepson well enough to know that he had a trick up his sleeve.

She just had to buy him time to pull the rabbit out of his hat.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Belle made herself meet those terrifying hazel eyes again.  “Killing me won’t make him turn to you,” she said quietly, but with utter certainty.  “He’s stronger than that.”

The warmth was spreading from her left hand, and Belle closed her fist so that she could touch the ring with her thumb.  A jolt ran through her when she did, not unpleasant but powerful, and it felt like Rumplestiltskin’s magic, warm and loving and only for her.  Even if he couldn’t hear her calling, Rumple would buy them all the time they needed.  Had he known Belle would need the ring for something like this, or had Rumple just been being his usual meticulous self?

“And here I thought you knew what losing your True Love did to someone,” the fae purred maliciously, and Belle had to swallow back the memory of pain.  Yes, she remembered that howling emptiness, remembered falling to the street in Storybrooke when she’d thought Rumplestiltskin was dead.  How much worse would it be if he was actually dead?  Or if she was?  Was _that_ how the Black Fairy meant to break him?

“I won’t—” Belle started, only to be cut off as a wave of darkness reared up to consume her.

 

****************

 

The dagger was safe, and Belle was in danger.  The first fact mattered little compared to the second, careful though Rumplestiltskin had been to make sure that the dagger remained out of Danns’ hands.  He’d known he had a few moments to do so, though, otherwise he would never have risked it.  Belle was more important to him than the dagger, more important than even his freedom.  Had he been forced to choose between keeping the dagger and keeping Belle safe, it would be no contest.  Even if the choice was between becoming the Dark One once more and keeping her safe, he’d always choose Belle.  Rumplestiltskin had finally come to embrace the uncompromising nature of his own love for the woman he’d asked to marry him, and he would do _anything_ to keep her safe. 

That was why, when the first twinge of warning traveled to him via the connection between his magic and the ring he’d given Belle, Rumplestiltskin had dropped everything.  But even as he teleported out of his vault—and into the Dark Castle, for the magic woven around the vault allowed one exiting to go nowhere but Rumplestiltskin’s great hall—the second warning hit him, this one much harder than the first.  The first had been a sense of vague danger, of someone just beginning to threaten Belle, but this was nothing of that sort.  _This_ was what would have been a death blow, aimed at his True Love.

Without conscious thought, Rumplestiltskin reached into that bottomless chasm of power he’d inherited and suddenly he was _there_ , darkness swirling around him and reaching out to tear apart whomever dared to threaten Belle.  Magic raced out of his upraised right hand, hitting Belle’s attacker head on and throwing him or her back.  But Rumplestiltskin didn’t even bother to see who it was; instead, he turned to Belle as she stumbled back, protected from the attack by her ring but not shielded enough to keep it from pushing her back a few steps.  The ring could keep the magic from hurting her, but the concussion clearly was enough to daze her.

Rumplestiltskin caught Belle by the hand before she could fall.    His touch seemed to help her find clarity, and blue eyes met brown.

“Rumple,” Belle breathed, and for a moment the world stood still and nothing, no one save the two of them, mattered at all.

“Hey,” he whispered, feeling the love flowing between them, feeling the magic inherent in it.  That gave him strength, not nearly as much as Belle’s love and confidence did, but strength all the same.  Touching her hand was like coming home, always had been, and even as Rumplestiltskin looked into her eyes, he drew on that magic to weave an intricate web of defenses around Belle.  His love and his fury both fed those defenses, because there was no mistaking the depth of his anger.  Someone had attacked _Belle_.

“It’s the Black Fairy,” Belle replied breathlessly, answering the unspoken question Rumplestiltskin hadn’t yet gotten around to asking.  

Coldness swept over him, and it wasn’t just the magic he knew now that Danns was building.  “I love you,” Rumplestiltskin told Belle, putting the finishing touches on the defenses he had just surrounded his love with.

“I know,” she replied with a smile.  “Now do what you have to do.”

Darting forward, Belle pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and Rumplestiltskin felt power surge within him.  He was giving Danns precious seconds, moments he could not afford to waste, and he did not care.  Drawing Belle close, he kissed her hard and then yanked back, afraid that he would not be able to pull away from her if he didn’t do so quickly.

“Get clear,” Rumplestiltskin told her, and turned to face his enemy just in time for dark magic to slam into his chest.

The defenses he’d woven around Belle held, but Rumplestiltskin had had no time to create such airtight protections around himself.  He could have done so, he supposed, leaving the ring to protect Belle—which it probably could—but Rumplestiltskin was prepared to take no chances.  Not when Danns had clearly targeted Belle.  Rumplestiltskin had never been a fool in love before, and he was fairly certain that he was not now; their kiss had only served to channel True Love into those defenses and allow Rumplestiltskin to tie those safeguards directly to Belle.  If that left him vulnerable, so be it.  A few blows wouldn’t kill him.

Even if this first one made him feel like it could.

Danns had clearly been gathering power for this blow ever since he arrived, and it was designed to rip him apart, _again_ , dismantling the healing he’d done yet another time—but painful as the magic was, it didn’t take into account the fact that Rumplestiltskin hadn’t healed himself.  Emma had done that, and her magic held.  Still, the wave of darkness swept Rumplestiltskin off his feet and spun him around, hammering into his innards and stressing organs to the breaking point.  It could not disassemble the previously done healing, so it sought to dismantle _him_ instead.  Pain screamed through his body, stars exploding before his eyes.  Rumplestiltskin hit the ground hard, landing on his left shoulder and trying and failing to roll with the impact while his muscles refused to properly respond to his commands.

But there was no time for human weaknesses, human frailties.  Not if he wanted to live—and Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not a survivor.  Additionally, he had grown a little more accustomed to pain than he was comfortable with, and _he had magic_.  So, he could pour power into his body and force it to compensate, could just teleport himself to his feet and whirl around to face Danns, magic roaring to his fingertips and spells already rolling through his mind.

He swatted aside her next spell with a wave of his left hand, catching it in a tightly closed fist and letting the power spark showily.  The spectators who hadn’t been smart enough to dive out of the way when Belle backed up—and there were uncomfortably many people watching—started stumbling away.  It was amazing how a few sparks could chase them away when the beginning of a duel between a sorcerer and a dark fairy could not, but that was humanity for you.  There was at least a little madness in all of them. 

Thankfully, Belle was saner than the rest of them put together, and he could see her out of the corner of his eye, shooing people back and telling them that staying too close to this fight was suicide.  Rumplestiltskin devoutly wished that his love would run, that she’d put as much distance between herself and the Black Fairy as possible, but he knew she would not.  Nor would the others, unfortunately, even if most of the assembled royals and nobles seemed to have listened enough to retreat to the very edges of the courtyard.  Regina and Emma were on their feet now, and stood together—wasn’t that ironic?—towards the front of the crowd, but Rumplestiltskin wished that they would just leave.  He didn’t need an audience for this.

Even though it was a battle that had been brewing from the moment Regina had reversed her curse, from the moment Rumplestiltskin had stabbed Pan and somehow broken his own curse.

“I glad you could join us, Rumple,” Danns' a'Bhàis said with a razor-sharp smile.  “Your beautiful betrothed and I were just having a friendly conversation.”

“It didn’t look too friendly from where I’m standing,” he replied, his voice soft and dangerous, a growl rather than the imp’s mad giggle.  “And don’t call me that.  I reserve that nickname for people I _like._ ”

That made the Black Fairy laugh.  “Did I offend you?”

“You trying to kill Belle offended me, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin snapped.  “If you think I didn’t notice that, you’re wrong.”

“It got your attention, didn’t it?” she answered with an elegant shrug.  He could still feel the power building within her, could feel the spells she was readying even as she spoke.  Her ability to do so should have been frightening—and was, on an intellectual level—except for the fact that he was doing the same.

A freezing spell.  A storm of lightning.  A whirlwind of power designed to tear her in two.  Three of his patented fairy-dissolving spells.  Those, and dozens of others.  Rumplestiltskin hung them on the edges of his consciousness, tucked them away in mental pockets where they were easy to grab when he needed them.  He had no illusions this afternoon.  This fight would not be like either of the times he’d engaged Norco.  Rumplestiltskin could not get by using pure power to overcome Danns.  She could match him in that, and had many more centuries of experience than he did.  No, he’d have to be clever.

The hazel eyes that met Rumplestiltskin’s told him that his opponent was thinking the same thing, so he threw her off with a smile and a low laugh.

“You certainly did.  Are you sure you wanted it?” he countered.

“Of course I did.”  Inevitably, she stepped up close to him, invading his personal space and reminding Rumplestiltskin of all the times he’d not been able to fight back.  Having her this close to him made him think of every time he’d been bound to a wall and shaking in pain, of being magic’d into a chair and unable to move, always unable to fight back.  But the only thing he hated more than being helpless was being unable to protect those he loved.  _My need to protect Bae was what got me into this mess in the first place,_ he knew.

Twisted though that road had been, Rumplestiltskin would not change the choice he had made the moment he had stabbed Circe’s dagger into Zoso’s chest.  No.  That choice had led to this moment, to the world’s original darkness threatening those he loved—but it had also led Rumplestiltskin to a point where he could match her blow for blow.

“Well,” he replied softly, refusing to back up so much as an inch, “you have my _undivided_ attention, Danns.  I do hope I don’t disappoint.”

“I’m sure you will.  Humans always do.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “Then I’ll be sure to live up to that.”

“By the time I’m through with you, Rumplestiltskin, you’ll _wish_ you’d only disappointed me.”  Hazel eyes narrowed dangerously, but Rumplestiltskin could see the gleam of anticipation in her gaze.  She was enjoying this, enjoying the opportunity to face him down—and the opportunity to threaten Belle.

That thought alone was almost enough to make Rumplestiltskin see red.  Although his temper didn’t have such a hair trigger these days, Rumplestiltskin still wasn’t the sort to put up with anyone threatening the woman he loved.  That spell the ring had caught _would_ have killed Belle if she hadn’t been wearing such protection, and that was not something he could ignore.  Nor forgive.

“Don’t be so certain of that,” he replied, meeting her vicious anticipation with his own.  Danns wasn’t the only one who wanted this fight; Rumplestiltskin might fear her, but he also _burned_ to prove to himself that he could face her.  And he wanted this over.  Now.  So he smiled.  “After all, I’ve yet to meet any of your expectations.  What makes you think I would start now?”

“No, I suppose you would not,” Danns replied sharply, stepping back.  Knowing what was coming, Rumplestiltskin matched the motion, and together they opened the distance between them to a dozen feet or so.  Her beautiful face twisted up in fury, and was that regret?  “You are no Merlin.”

“And glad not to be, dear.”

They attacked as one, power sweeping outwards and clashing between them, setting off a light show of cosmic proportions.  It was like a giant star had sprung to life in the space between them, hanging motionless in midair for several seconds as it cycled through colors: first black, then red, then purple and finally white.  The light from it was so bright that Rumplestiltskin almost felt as if his eyes were burning just _looking_ at that starburst, but he dared not look away.  He could feel the struggle where their magic met, could feel it vibrating in his bones and could feel time threatening to stand still.  When had been the last time that two original powers had faced off like this?  More than a millennia had passed since such a battle had taken place, and Rumplestiltskin could feel the very nature of magic watching, _waiting._   The sensation took his breath away, even as blackness started creeping in on the edges of his vision and his hands started to shake.

He could not hold this forever.  Nor for much longer.  Had seconds passed, or hours?  Time felt sluggish, captured, as if so much power threatened to damage the very fabric of the Enchanted Forest.  He could feel the waves of magic traveling through him now, pounding out of his body like wild surf crashing on the shore.  His breathing was starting to come in time with the power, short and hard, and his extended right hand felt leaden, yet unable to fall.  He was stuck, trapped by his own magic as much as hers, bound to see this to the end, regardless of what that might be. 

The starburst between them was only growing in size and brightness, feeding on both of them as their magic, their souls, fought for dominance.  Whoever gave first would die, and yet Rumplestiltskin was not sure that his very human body could take this strain.  Dizziness swept over him, aggravating the damage caused by that first attack of Danns’, and his body _wanted_ to sway precariously.  But it could not.  He was caught in the grip of the magic, swept away by power he’d initiated but which had escaped his control.

One look at Danns told Rumplestiltskin that she felt the same...and he wasn’t sure either one of them could stop this.

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The battle has begun! But Danns still has a trick or two up her sleeve—can you guess what it is?
> 
> The battle between Rumplestiltskin and the Black Fairy continues in Chapter Fifty-Four: "Fate in the Balance."


	55. Fate in the Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who is keeping track, I anticipate this story ending around 63 chapters.

**_Chapter Fifty-Four—“Fate in the Balance”_ **

 

The massive starburst of magic between Rumplestiltskin and Danns' a'Bhàis continued to glow, growing to engulf the entire area between them, humming with power, rhythmically and ominously.  The parade of shifting colors began once more, changing from white to yellow to red to black and finally to a deep royal purple, the color of magic itself, untainted by either darkness or light.  This was pure magic.  This was power of the sort the world had not seen in over a thousand years.  It was huge, terrifying, so bright that it hurt Rumplestiltskin’s eyes and so strong that he could feel his body starting to come apart at the seams after only a few moments.

This was going to kill him.

Except it wasn’t.  The same power that was tearing Rumplestiltskin apart also held him together.  Muscles tingled and bones ached, but Rumplestiltskin remained intact.  _This_ was what being an original power meant.  This was their world’s original magic.

A tremor ran through him; his upraised right hand was shaking like he had palsy.  But he could not back down; should he falter even slightly, Danns would gain the upper hand immediately.  But she was suffering, too.  Rumplestiltskin could barely see her through the thick magic between them, but the Black Fairy appeared to be shaking as hard as he was, and her hazel eyes were wide with strain.  Yet even as he realized that, the starburst only grew larger as they both struggled, completely eclipsing his opponent and swallowing Rumplestiltskin as well.

The magic burned where it touched his skin, a beautiful, intoxicating agony that no words could describe.  But the automatic exhilaration that Rumplestiltskin felt when the wild purple swirls engulfed him was misleading, and his every instinct screamed _danger!_

“Any time now, dearie!” Rumplestiltskin shouted over the wind howling around them.  There was no need to say more.  Danns knew what he meant.

They could not keep this up.  The world might come apart at the seams before they did.

“Surrender and this will end immediately,” she replied haughtily, but Rumplestiltskin could hear the tension in her voice.

His laugh was sharp and just a little strained.  “Oh, no.  We do this together or not at all.”

Belle might have words for him later concerning the wisdom of endangering the entire Enchanted Forest like this, but he knew Danns' a'Bhàis.  He knew that she wanted to rule the world, not destroy it.  Rumplestiltskin only hoped that she was not too reckless today, that she did not wait too long.

The silence between them grew as the magic fed on them both.  Rumplestiltskin could no longer see Belle or the others, although he suspected that plenty of fools had stuck around to watch.  Humans were always that foolish, that unpredictable.  His vision had whited out, merged with the power surrounding them.  Everything else was meaningless.

The ominous hum grew louder.  Deeper.  Stronger.

Minutes ticked by.  Rumplestiltskin _thought_ he could hear worried voices speaking, but they sounded like they were coming from behind glass.  Muffled.  Indistinct.  Unintelligible.    Was anyone even there, or had he and Danns already destroyed the world between the two of them?

“Very well,” Danns finally replied, her soft voice dangerous.

“A deal, Danns,” he cut in forcefully, pushing aside the rising pain to speak firmly.  It was necessary.  The nature of magic would hold them both to a deal, particularly here and now.  And Rumplestiltskin would never trust the woman who had once hurt him so badly; he knew her too well.  Danns kept to her deals almost as explicitly as he did, but only if she made them.

The hint of irritation in her voice told Rumplestiltskin that Danns had at least contemplated attempting to hold on for a few seconds longer than he did and turning the power against Rumplestiltskin.  _Of course she was. You considered the same._   Danns finally answered: “Very well.  A deal.”  She _did_ sound hoarse, though, as if the pain was inching in on her, too.  “Together.”

No verbal cue was required.  Both could feel when the moment came.  It was like everything snapped into place, that the world suddenly stopped bending and waited to balance back out.  Much to Rumplestiltskin’s surprise, relinquishing his hold on the magic was _hard_ ; he had to forcibly detach himself from it enough to drag the power back inside himself.  It protested, sending wild chills racing through his exhausted body, but he wrapped his mental hands around _his_ magic and forced it to obey.  A dozen feet away, Rumplestiltskin felt Danns doing the same, and after thirty seconds of struggle against their own out-of-control power, they found success together.

The purple starburst exploded, raining shards of magic down like sparkling ash.  It was fairy dust mixed with human magic, almost liquid in form but not quite, burning and freezing all at once.  The force of the blast threw Rumplestiltskin, slamming him into the ground on his back as the world spun precariously, threatening to tip off its axis and collapse.  Rumplestiltskin hit hard, his head slamming into the grass and stars dancing across his vision.  The impact knocked the wind out of him, and for a long moment he could feel no magic at all.  Deaf and blind, he grabbed desperately for his throat with both hands, expecting to find a bronze band tight around his neck, cutting him off from magic once more.

His fingers found only skin and his own high collared silk shirt.  There was nothing there.  Nor on his wrists.  The blindness had to be a side effect of all that power, Rumplestiltskin told himself, fighting down his rising panic.  _Focus!_ The magic still lingered over them like a dense purple fog, lighter in color now but still hanging in the air.

“Rumple?” a worried voice called, and much to his surprise, it was Regina.  She and Emma must have managed to get Belle away, at least a little, and he could feel the Evil Queen’s magic tentatively pushing the fog aside.

“Stay back,” he warned her, struggling to his feet.  His limbs felt leaden, and the old ankle injury ached madly, but the dizziness had receded enough that he could stand.  He still felt ready to vomit as the world spun, but at least his vision was slowly clearing, and his hands were beginning to tingle.  The hum had become a pounding in his hears.  Was that power waiting for release, or his own battered body objecting?

“Are you…” Regina trailed off meaningfully.

“Still alive,” Rumplestiltskin answered brusquely, not willing to examine himself enough to provide a more detailed answer.  He didn’t want to know.

“That’s almost a pity,” a cultured voice interjected, but Rumplestiltskin could hear how ragged around the edges Danns felt in the lack of smugness as she spoke.  Even breathing hurt.

“I did promise to continue disappointing you— _Awh!_ ”  The cry tore out of him even as Rumplestiltskin tried to taunt his opponent.  Power had ripped into him without warning, his senses roaring painfully to life and magic leaping to his fingers once more.

Danns’ yelp echoed his, and as Rumplestiltskin swayed, she did, too.  For a moment, both were overcome by the sensations, but they both acted anyway.

After all, their battle was far from finished, even if both had learned not to dig so deeply and use such raw power.  They would finish this battle like sorcerers, albeit ones with a vast depth of magic at their disposal. Both, however, instinctually understood that there were lines they should never cross.  But there was still much they could do, would do, and both attacked immediately.

Rumplestiltskin lashed out, aiming not to end their battle in a single stroke but to look like he was.  He knew that ending things quickly was impossible, but laying the groundwork now would pay dividends later, and Rumplestiltskin had always played the long game.  So, he cloaked subtlety in a whirl of green power, disguising the dangerously tricky spark inside a glove of metaphorical steel.  His blow fell hard enough to make Danns stagger, but the spell underneath that went to work far more quietly—only to be dismantled by a flick of her wrist, driven by a millennia’s worth of knowledge and experience.  He could to nothing to salvage that, even as he saw her break his spell apart—Danns was _faster_ than he was, and the Black Fairy’s spell hit Rumplestiltskin like a hammer, sweeping him off his feet and trying to break every bone in his body.

Landing hard on his knees, Rumplestiltskin sacrificed any attempt to keep his balance for a chance to mitigate the magic tearing painfully through him.  A few bones fragmented, a rib or two fractured, but his defenses held the worst of it back.  Still, the pressure was so great that it trapped the scream in his chest, and the ground in front of him vanished into a green blanket highlighted blue—

Instinct brought his left hand up, and Rumplestiltskin barely pushed the next attack aside in time.  The edges of it still caught him, however, and electricity-like jolts raced across his limbs, making him convulse and finally scream in pain.  A third spell came in hard on that one’s heels, slamming into Rumplestiltskin and taking away the pain—only to replace it with terrifying numbness.  He could feel nothing save fear; his magic raged impotently against the spells holding him and Rumplestiltskin realized with devastating certainty that he could never stand against her.  Power he might have inherited, but Danns' a'Bhàis had been fighting off impertinent sorcerers for generations.  She knew things about magic that he could never even dream of, and—

Power sizzled up inside him, gentle and pure, reaching out to counter the doubts and the fears, filling his soul with love and light.  A long moment passed before Rumplestiltskin realized that it was the remnants of Belle’s kiss stealing through his system.  He had used that kiss to protect her, but _she_ had used it to protect him, albeit unknowingly.  And now it did, wiping away the crippling doubts that Danns’ most clever spell instilled in him, giving Rumplestiltskin strength where he lacked his own.  _You make me stronger_.  An image of Belle’s face flashed before his eyes, and Rumplestiltskin finally understood why True Love was the most powerful magic of all.  It could not conquer the spells working him over—he would have to do that himself—but it could fill him and give him a reason to fight.

His vision cleared, and Rumplestiltskin could see the magic hovering before him, black and silver threads perfectly intertwined.  But all magic had a weakness, even flawless spells like these.  A simple twist of power came as he flicked his fingers, and Rumplestiltskin focused on the three threads required to collapse the interwoven spells around him, pulling them apart in a flash of light.  As suddenly as it had come upon him, the numbness vanished, and his limbs came to life once more as Rumplestiltskin teleported himself to his feet.  Power raced through him again, and he smiled at his opponent’s surprise. 

She had thought to win the fight then and there, he realized, so Rumplestiltskin laughed.  A bit of the old imp crept into his expression, and his hands twirled with the old flourish.  “Expecting something else, _old friend_?”

Her eyes narrowed, and the power she threw his way was deadly and vicious, but Rumplestiltskin dismantled that, too, much to Danns’ obvious surprise.  But he had never been a normal sorcerer.  He had spent three centuries studying magic and had overcome the limits of his old curse to become something more.  Yes, Danns' a'Bhàis was infinitely more experienced, but she had lived in exile for centuries and he had _lived_.  She had never been pushed to her limits, either, not even by Circe when she’d moved to save her sister, and Rumplestiltskin knew he could exploit that.   It might well kill him to do so, but he was fairly certain he could take her down with him.

“What I am expecting is not the issue here,” Danns replied imperiously, and Rumplestiltskin saw a thousand and a half years of fae ‘superiority’ behind her aloof expression.  “What matters is that you _learn your place._ ”

The last three words sounded like thunder, and darkness swept around the Black Fairy like a cloak as she spoke.  His opponent’s silver and black dress—did she _ever_ wear anything else?—shimmered in time with her magic, glowing eerily under a steadily darkening sky.  Cold wind whipped around Rumplestiltskin as power rose to punish him, but he flicked it aside with one impertinent hand, throwing it back at her and watching the magic hit the Black Fairy with unconcealed satisfaction.  Danns stumbled backwards, her impenetrable aura fracturing, and Rumplestiltskin grinned.

“I already know where that is, and it’s certainly not as your slave.”

“It certainly is not,” she retorted as they exchanged another trio of spells.  Both hit with at least one, and Rumplestiltskin felt fire racing through his bones as her power tried to eat away at him and his tried to counter it.  _He_ dumped an icing spell on her head—one he’d learned a long time ago under questionable circumstances—and watched Danns struggle to shrug it off as she continued angrily: “The mistake was Zoso’s.  You should never have been the Dark One, and I have no desire to have such a _flawed_ specimen as my servant.  You’ll die.”

“Will I, now?” Rumplestiltskin asked lightly, teleporting away from a spell designed to eviscerate his heart stumbling when a wave of raw power took him right in the chin.  But he got her back with the same sort of blow, knocking Danns’ legs out from under her.  Rumplestiltskin landed on his back even as the Black Fairy crumbled to her knees.

“You’re of no further use to me,” she panted dismissively.

“I hate to disappoint you, dear, but what’s useful to _you_ does not define the world.”  Teleporting back to his feet—Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure if he could get up the normal way; using magic was so much easier, even if exhaustion was already tugging on him—he continued: “If that were the case, we’d not be so willing to fight you.”

“We?” One eyebrow rose, and Rumplestiltskin heard the breathless laughter in Danns’ voice.  At least she was hurting as much as he was—Rumplestiltskin felt like he’d been run over by a truck, but it was nice to know that he was giving as good as he got.  “Do you really think that your so-called allies will stand by you for long?  They’re _humans._ ”

A better man would have been offended by the sneer in that last word; Rumplestiltskin just formed a potent wedge of power and slammed it into his opponent, smiling as it snapped her head back and made blood spurt out of her nose.  He managed to block the return blow, too, sloppy though it was, and readied another trio of his own spells.  He needed to slip something beneath her defenses, needed a hole card of some sort.  Otherwise, this battle was only going to get uglier, and Rumplestiltskin had no idea where it was going to end.

“So am I,” he reminded the Black Fairy softly.

“You’re an original power,” she countered, rolling her eyes as if that made him different.  And it _did_ , but he was still as human and as flawed as the rest of them, just as unpredictable and supposedly lowly.  The fairies looked down on all of them, and Rumplestiltskin found that made him feel more human rather than less, though he doubted that was Danns’ intention at all.

“With the way people like you work, I’d rather lay claim to being human,” Rumplestiltskin replied, gathering power to himself once more, not on the previous scale that had gotten them both in such trouble, but he’d need quite a bit for his next trick.  “It’s no secret that I’m not the type to play hero, so when I feel the need to put myself between you and the rest of humanity, you know you have a problem.”

Danns didn’t answer; instead, a red whirlwind of power swept rose up out of the ground at Rumplestiltskin’s feet, engulfing him before he could so much as blink.  This magic was so very dark, sharp edged and vicious, and tore into him without warning.  The spell picked him up and spun him around, trapping him inside a fast-moving tornado and spinning him like a drunken top.  Vertigo assaulted Rumplestiltskin immediately, and he had a hard time wondering which direction was up after a second or so.  Blindly, choking on nausea and the sudden influx of fairy dust, Rumplestiltskin reached for the threads he knew would disassemble the spell, only to find they were red herrings and pulling them only intensified the magic holding him.  Spasms were starting to roll through his muscles and he could feel blood dripping out of his nose—pressure built exponentially around him, pressing inwards harder and harder until he could barely breathe.

He tried teleporting free of it, but the magic only slammed him into the ground, the whirlwind still whipping around him but now pinning Rumplestiltskin to the grass.  It tracked him when he tried to roll away, then the pressure increased to hold him down.  His personal tornado, blood red and wild, was starting to wear a crater in the ground, and Rumplestiltskin wished he could scream in pain.  The pressure and pain were too much, and he couldn’t concentrate.  His chest felt so heavy.  This was going to crush him to death, crush him like an ogre might have so long ago, and—

_You are not the terrified spinner any longer.  Think._   A supreme effort was required to force his mind to focus, and the dizziness kept creeping in no matter what he did.  But Rumplestiltskin finally managed to, somehow, suck a deep breath in, and with that came his power.  His shaking hands came up, and he _pushed_.

The tornado broke open with an earsplitting _crack_ , leaving Rumplestiltskin lying in the crater and panting for air.  Everything hurt.  Dark magic was prickling under his skin and focusing was next to impossible.  He was fairly certain that the tornado had broken some bones when it had slammed him down, but right now, differentiating between the separate pains was hard.  What was just an ache and what was broken?  If it was his ankle again, Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure how he’d cope with it.

_There’s no time.  Get up.  Fight.  Worry later._

Dragging himself sluggishly to his knees, Rumplestiltskin grabbed ahold of the lightning storm he’d left hanging earlier.  A wave of his left hand sent it sailing towards Danns, and he carefully tucked a second spell—hastily constructed, but no less dangerous—inside the outer edges of the storm.  That spell was toxic, sneaky, designed to get inside the Black Fairy and do to her what she’d been doing to him.  Rumplestiltskin’s version was more subtle than the one that had hit him, and would spread throughout her body before attacking, but the effect would be much the same.  So, he watched Danns defeat the lightning storm with interest and a crooked smile, noting that she was a little sluggish, too.  This all-out fight was definitely slowing them both down, but Rumplestiltskin was prepared to use his brain when his body wanted to fail.  White light flashed blue; the lightning storm died with a _rumble_ , but his other spell was already through her defenses and almost ready.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t wait for Danns to notice it.  Instead, he teleported once more, though this time not just to his feet.  Now he landed with his extended right hand just inches from her back, channeling power straight into her.  The Black Fairy’s body jerked gratifyingly in pain, but her defenses roared to life and cut his spell off before it could gain much traction.  _Oops._   Yet Rumplestiltskin still smiled, even when Danns’ retaliatory burst of power hit in right in the chest and made him stumble backwards.  The distraction had worked, and any moment now, his spell was going to come to life.

Then it did.

Danns dropped like a rock, howling in pain.  Rumplestiltskin sidestepped the mad burst of power and fury that rolled off her, weathering the edges he couldn’t block as his own world tipped on its axis.  Yes, he was every bit as injured as she was, now, and his magic was too occupied by the battle to try to fix the damage on its own.  But it wouldn’t kill him any more than it would kill Danns, which was why he ignored the injuries and readied another quartet of spells.  He made to fling them at his opponent, but found _her_ teleporting away even as his hands came up, and Rumplestiltskin’s first spell bounced harmlessly off the ground because he couldn’t stop it in time. 

“Look out!” someone shouted—was that Emma?—even as his instincts howled a warning, and Rumplestiltskin threw himself aside.  Usually, he preferred to avoid such hasty moves, but this time the urgency was well worth it.  He hit the ground hard, grunting in pain and rolling away from the spell that tore a second crater in the ground.

Make that a third crater.  The spell he’d missed with a few moments earlier had created one, too.

Flinging a hand up—and a shield with it—to defend himself, Rumplestiltskin felt his defenses shudder as Danns hit them with everything she had.  His body twitched with them, his heart hammering hard in his chest, and sparks played across his vision.  But his shields held long enough for Rumplestiltskin to lob another attack Danns’ way, too, and their magic crossed in the air between them, creating a lightshow of epic proportions.  A rainbow of colors exploded around them, spells bursting violently against one another.  Rumplestiltskin cast one spell, and then two more, dodged a pair, blocked a third, and absorbed another two he couldn’t get away from.  Danns did much the same; about one out of every five spells Rumplestiltskin threw at her actually hit, with most of the rest wasting itself against her defenses.  The Black Fairy wasn’t doing much better; however, the frequency at which they were attacking one another meant that something was getting through to each of them every few seconds.

It was like living inside a metal box being while it was being worked over by a jackhammer.  Even the very air around Rumplestiltskin was vibrating, thick with magic and blood—blood from both of them.  Danns was starting to rock with every blow he landed, clearly as unsteady on her feet as Rumplestiltskin was growing.  The blood flow out of his nose was growing heavier and heavier, and his limbs were beginning to shake uncontrollably.  Rumplestiltskin could barely see, now, but he didn’t have to.  He could feel the magic more clearly than anything else in the world, could sense it rushing through every cell in his body.  His consciousness had narrowed down to his spells, his defenses, and Danns’ attacks.  Nothing else—

_Finally!_   Danns cried out as a wave of his raw power connected, and she staggered back a few steps.  But her follow-on blow still zeroed in on him, and Rumplestiltskin collapsed to one knee as fire engulfed him.  He had to waste precious seconds putting it out, glad all the while that leather took longer to burn than cloth, and the next attack fell before he could stop it.

The world spun; Danns had caught her balance—until he managed to hit her with a bolt of straight-up lightning—but Rumplestiltskin couldn’t get further than off of one knee.  His left knee still dug into the dirt, several inches further than it should have, though he wasn’t quite inside a crater this time, and his entire leg had gone numb.  The tiny corner of his brain that was able to focus on anything other than magic reflected that it was a good thing that it wasn’t the bad leg, but that thought barely flirted through Rumplestiltskin’s mind before it was replaced by the calculations for another spell, the basis for more magic.  He was acting on instinct now, instinct and centuries of study, summoning the required emotions and casting spells as soon as he could think of them.

A scythe of power.  A freezing spell.  A tornado, and then another tornado, just to see if the second one could get through.  It did, but then Danns hit him with one of her own, and it almost swept him straight into the air.  Rumplestiltskin managed to catch himself, swaying but somehow upright.  A burning wave.  A splitting spell.  Three shadowy balls of power.  Those hit, but Danns shot one back at him, and Rumplestiltskin’s own magic laced into his system and made him cry out in pain even as he finally managed to stand up.  But she did, too, and now they were both swaying drunkenly, barely upright.  Another dozen spells later and Rumplestiltskin found himself on his knees once more, a dozen feet away from Danns, who’d likewise collapsed.  The next set of spells came slower from both sides, and the follow-on ones more slowly still.  Rumplestiltskin felt like he was trying to cast magic from inside a jar of molasses. 

How long had they been doing this?  There was no way to tell.

“Finished yet, dearie?” Rumplestiltskin managed to ask without gasping too hard.  Mostly.

Heavens knew, he was damn near drained.

Danns’ response was another wave of power, but it was so weak that although Rumplestiltskin barely managed to block it, what he didn’t catch did no damage at all.

“Suppose that’s my answer,” he wheezed, and suddenly he was on his back, staring at the sky.  The clouds were all wrong; darker and more purple, thicker and lower.  How badly had the two of them messed up the environment around their battle?

“Don’t be a fool,” Danns retorted, but she sounded dizzily, and another attack never came.  That was good, because Rumplestiltskin was fairly certain he had nothing left.

Painfully, he managed to crane his neck and see that Danns was also sprawled on the ground, too, her face pale and drawn.  He was shaking; was she, also?  It was hard to tell from a dozen feet away, but Rumplestiltskin thought she was.  They were both so drained; he had no idea how long their battle had lasted, but judging from the lasting effect in the sky overhead, it had been awhile.  Briefly, Rumplestiltskin was tempted to use a spell to determine just how long they’d been at it, but even thinking so made his head spin—and _that_ opened up the door to all the aches he’d been ignoring, and those pains crashed over him like a tidal wave.

His attempt to cry out fizzled into a pained whimper and a feeble convulsion; everything hurt, although Rumplestiltskin was fairly sure nothing major was broken.  Oh, there were plenty of minor injuries, dozens of bruises, and those damned cracked ribs, but the bulk of the strain seemed to be purely magical.  He was utterly drained, dizzy and weak.  The only consolation of any sort was that Danns clearly felt the same, because she hadn’t gotten up, either.  Apparently, there were good reasons why original powers didn’t go at it like this.  _No wonder she had to save her sister from Circe.  Original power Blue might be, but fighting her was_ nothing _like this,_ Rumplestiltskin thought tiredly.  He wasn’t even sure he could pick his head up.  His eyes wanted to drift shut; sleep would be so nice.

“Well, will you look at that,” a caustic voice interjected, making Rumplestiltskin’s eyes snap open.

Damn it all.  Jhudora and a host of other fae were suddenly surrounding Danns, helping her to her feet and all crackling with power.  Jhudora was smiling her best predatory smile, the one that was even less sane than Norco’s and far less restrained.  There were a dozen or so other fae with her, and Rumplestiltskin was fairly sure he saw Maleficent in the crowd.  Though to be honest, evidence that her ruse was playing out quite nicely did nothing to reassure him at the moment.  Right now it was just more bad news.

_Look at it on the bright side,_ he told himself ruefully.  _They can’t kill you without a secondary power, even if Danns might have been able to.  So the worst you can expect is—_

“It’s amazing how some people always want to jump in after the hard work is done,” Regina answered Jhudora, and Rumplestiltskin managed to make his head turn to watch the Evil Queen stepping up next to where he still lay sprawled.

And she wasn’t alone.

Emma was next to Regina, but so was Bae, though his son’s worried eyes were on Rumplestiltskin more than the fae bristling a dozen feet away.  The presence of those two wasn’t terribly surprising, although Rumplestiltskin half-wished his son would stay the hell away from this.  The others, however, _were_ —he might have built the alliance, but Rumplestiltskin had never expected it to bear this kind of fruit.  But it had, because there was Jafar, Tinker Bell, Iron John, Lord Soulis, the Sugar Plum Fairy, and even the Lady of the Lake.  Impressive magic users, all of them, the types that neither the fae nor the fairies liked to allow to live for long, because they might just give humanity someone else to turn to.

“Isn’t it just?” Jhudora retorted, and Rumplestiltskin saw Regina smirk even as Bae came over to crouch next to him.

“Can I help you up, Papa?” his son asked softly.

“Yeah.”  The word came out in a cough; Rumplestiltskin barely managed to strangle the urge to pass out.  “Might not stay there without help, but it’s probably a good idea.”

He hated, _hated_ , appearing weak, but at least this time no one would wonder why.  And at least his opponent looked just as wasted.

Baelfire carefully helped Rumplestiltskin to his feet, and the sorcerer was glad to realize that both of his legs supported him, even the one he’d broken so long ago.  He still felt numb all over, but he could feel his magic working subtly to overcome some of the more major issues.  No wonder why he didn’t dare use it for anything else.  What little magic his body could still tolerate was occupied with keeping that self-same body from going to pieces.  Rumplestiltskin knew that he’d have a lot of healing to do on himself later, but it was nice to know that his power wouldn’t let him die in the meantime.

“So,” Emma interjected, “are we done?  Or are we all going to continue this fight?”

The implication was clear, and none of the other humans—or part humans, or Tink—contradicted her.  They were prepared to stand together against the fae, even if it meant re-igniting the battle here and now.  Dizzy though he was, Rumplestiltskin watched Maleficent meet Regina’s eye for less than a second, and he knew that the former fairy was still on their side. 

“Jhudora…” the female fae to Maleficent’s right said in an undertone.

“Be silent,” Jhudora snapped, and Rumplestiltskin bit back a smile.  Oh, Maleficent was _good_.  She’d never raise her own voice in objection, yet she’d already convinced someone else to do so for her.  But Jhudora, still somehow leading the lesser fae with Danns as out of it as he was, returned to glaring at Emma and Regina.  She sneered.  “Surrender Rumplestiltskin and you may all go free.”

“Not a chance,” Regina snorted.

“Yeah, unlike you, we don’t betray our friends,” Emma added, and although Rumplestiltskin knew a number in their alliance certainly didn’t think of him as a _friend_ , at least none of them decided to argue that point at the moment. 

Jhudora laughed. “You don’t want to try this, _humans._   You really don’t.”

“Bring it, fairy.”  Regina’s retort hit home; Rumplestiltskin saw Jhudora jerk back in fury.  Suddenly, his magical senses caught up with reality, and he realized that Regina and Emma—and the others, interestingly enough—had spent most of his fight with Danns shielding the idiot spectators who _still_ hadn’t been smart enough to run out of the courtyard.

Someone would have to do quite the repair job on Snow and Charming’s favorite palace, too.  Pillars were crumbling, a few walls had utterly gone to rubble, and the grass was torn up in huge swaths, to say nothing of the damage to the ornate plants and flowers that had once decorated the place. All in all, the damage wasn’t as bad as it might have been; neither Rumplestiltskin nor Danns had ever truly lost control of their magic, and even when they missed, the spells usually weren’t so imprecise as to go after something other than their original targets.  All in all, Rumplestiltskin supposed the damage wasn’t as bad as it could have been.  Hell, they might have brought the entire castle down on everyone.

“ _I_ ,” Jhudora snarled, her voice like ice, “am not a _fairy_.”

“Oh, no.  Of course you aren’t.  You’re _so_ very different from the colorful little bugs,” the Evil Queen purred.

Bae snorted from Rumplestiltskin’s right, but at least his son had the sense not to say whatever it was on his mind.  Not when Regina was doing such a good job of pissing Jhudora off, all by herself.  Still, this situation was about to spiral completely out of control, so Rumplestiltskin gathered magic to himself—what little his body would accept at the moment, and it _hurt_ enough to make him hiss out a pained breath from between gritted teeth—and pulled away from his son, forcing his limbs to obey his commands and straightening painfully.  Limits be damned; he was an original power and he would not let others fight his battles for him.  Not because he was some foolish hero type, but because he was Rumplestiltskin, and he had a reputation to uphold.

Cowards hid behind others.  He would not let them think that of him now.

Danns had done the same, almost perfectly in synch with Rumplestiltskin’s own actions.  He could see the power flowing to her, could see the fae glancing her way with both admiration and concern, and their eyes met.

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow, not needing to voice the question.  _Shall we continue, or have you had enough?_

Danns scowled, but her eyes were tired.  If they chose to continue fighting, Rumplestiltskin knew it would be far uglier than the earlier battle, and not only because of the extra players.  No, they were both exhausted, and any semblance of control would quickly vanish if they started flinging power around again.  They might even wind up exactly where they had started, threatening to destroy the world between the pair of them, and that would be…bad.

“Well?” Emma demanded again, obviously unable to take the silence stretching on.  “What’ll it be?”

Another heartbeat passed; Rumplestiltskin held Danns’ gaze and waited.

“This is not over,” the Black Fairy finally said to him.

Rumplestiltskin smiled darkly.  “It never is, dearie.”

Without a further word, the fae disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Chapter Fifty-Five: “Brave Enough to Trust,” in which a fae comes for Henry, and Rumplestiltskin deals with the aftermath of the battle.


	56. Brave Enough to Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Chapter 56: “With Friends Like These”, where Maleficent and Regina chat, Emma spends time with Charming, and our heroes try to figure out how to keep Henry’s heart safe. In the meantime, please let me know what you think!

**_Chapter Fifty-Five—“Brave Enough to Trust”_ **

 

Needless to say, the battle between Rumplestiltskin and the Black Fairy ended the Grand Council for the day. Bae and Emma had helped Rumplestiltskin to the rooms he and Belle shared, and by the time he got there, he was barely on his feet. The price of using so much magic was rolling through him and making Rumplestiltskin dizzier by the moment; his injuries were being mitigated by his power, but that didn’t make him feel much better. He felt like he’d been run over by an eighteen wheeler full of concrete, and the aches were only worsening as more minutes passed, and his son lowered him onto the bed. Belle wasn’t there, and for a moment panic seized Rumplestiltskin. What if Belle had somehow gotten caught in the crossfire? What if she’d been hurt somehow, what if _he’d_ hurt her?

“Take it easy, Papa,” Bae said softly, reading his expression all too easily. Worry was starting to make Rumplestiltskin’s breath short, and his head was pounding wildly—

“Belle…?” He couldn’t finish the question.

“She’s been helping Snow and David corral the various nobles and royals who’d insisted on watching the ‘show’,” his son replied, squeezing his arm gently. “Emma’ll go get her.”

“Oh, I will, will I?” his daughter in law countered, raising an eyebrow at her husband. It always took Emma a little while to come down off being hostile, Rumplestiltskin knew, but he still opened his mouth to object before Bae got in first.

“Please, Emma?”

The Savior rolled her eyes. “Sure. You’ve got it.”

Emma headed out the door without further argument, leaving her husband and father in law alone. Rumplestiltskin found himself half doubled-over where he sat on the bed, and trying to straighten almost made him collapse onto his back. In fact, had Bae not caught him, he _would_ have fallen; the wave of dizziness was just that strong.

“Easy there,” Bae said with what Rumplestiltskin thought was a crooked smile; seeing straight was halfway to impossible. “You want to lie down?”

“No,” Rumplestiltskin whispered raggedly as his son reached up with a cloth to wipe the blood off of his face. Rumplestiltskin felt as weak as a newborn, and just as useless. “I need…I need to heal myself.”

If he didn’t do it soon, his magic might do the job for him, and that never was as effective as healing himself the right way. Unfortunately, that meant summoning power, and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t quite sure if his pounding head could manage that at the moment.

“Can’t one of us do it for you?”

A strained laugh escaped before Rumplestiltskin could stop it, but it cut off in a strangled cough. The sound trapped itself in his chest and rattled around there, bouncing back and forth between his ribs like a ping-pong ball made of jagged steel. Of course, Bae was referring to the fact that he’d let Emma heal him before, but this time was different. After such a vicious battle, Rumplestiltskin was fairly certain that his magic would attack anyone who tried to do so. He didn’t have much power to spare at the moment—exhaustion was pressing down on him, and he felt like he had sandpaper behind his eyelids—but what he had would probably savage him as badly as it did his would-be healer.

“Papa?” a hand landed on his shoulder, very gently, but it still made Rumplestiltskin jerk a bit. His body was ultra-sensitive, worn and confused.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he managed to get out between coughs; a long moment passed before he could get control of his breathing enough to speak more than a word at a time. Even then, managing more than a handful was impossible. “Don’t think. That would be. A good idea. Though.”

“Why not?” his son asked worriedly. “I mean, you don’t…feel normal. Magically. I don’t know. This magic thing is still kind of, uh, weird for me. Is normal the right word?”

Rumplestiltskin managed a crooked smile, but had to take a moment to bite back what he was pretty sure was going to become a whimper. His head was still pounding in time with every rapid breath he took, but he was feeling a little better. Incrementally.

“Normal is…close enough,” he coughed, but then Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, tugging experimentally on his power. It answered, sluggish but effective, creeping into his bones and beginning to patch up the fractures and chips. “So much power does interesting things to the human body. And I am…still human.” _These days._

“Glad to hear it,” Bae replied, still sounding concerned. “Can I help?”

“You do, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin reassured him, his eyes still closed but highly conscious of the hand on his shoulder. Bae’s very presence anchored him to the here and now, reminding Rumplestiltskin of all the reasons he had to fight and hold onto his humanity. Once, many years ago, he had viewed humanity as a weakness to be avoided at all costs. Rumplestiltskin had known himself to be worthless as a human and had wanted to distance himself from that as far as possible when he’d been the Dark One. But he had never been able to quite shake the love he felt for his boy, and it had anchored him to the humanity he had been so certain he had lost. “You do help.”

“Got to admit that I don’t feel so much like it at the moment. You look like hell, Papa.”

“Yeah, well…so does Danns,” he breathed, half concentrating on spells he’d put into motion and half paying attention to Baelfire.

“Danns? You two are on a first name basis now?” Even with the way he felt, with the cotton Rumplestiltskin felt like was wrapped around his brain, he could hear the alarm in his son’s voice.

“Probably comes from almost killing one another.”

Bae snorted. “Do you have _any_ idea how odd that sounds?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” But did he? Blinking, Rumplestiltskin thought about what his son had said, reflecting on the twisted relationship he had with the Black Fairy. She was an enemy, yes, but also an equal. She had hurt him horribly, probably scarred him forever, but she also understood what he was like no one else did.

“Are you going to—” The door opened, cutting Bae off, and then a new voice interjected before Rumplestiltskin had managed to turn his head far enough to see who it was.

“Rumple!”

Suddenly, Belle was next to him on the bed, sitting on his other side and slipping her right hand into his. Belle sat so close that her leg brushed against his, her mere presence a balm for his wounds. Her touch was like electricity, and even without a kiss, power shot through him of a type that Rumplestiltskin had once acknowledged as existing but had never thought to feel himself. Slowly, he let the breath out that he’d been holding, letting his eyes slide shut again as a quiet feeling of peace stole through him. That feeling slowly combined with his magic, slipping into Rumplestiltskin’s bloodstream and helping him relax for the first time since the battle had begun.

A soft touch on the back of his head made Rumplestiltskin jump slightly, but Belle knew him too well to touch the back of his neck, particularly after so much time spent around Danns. Belle’s other hand slipped into his hair, and Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure if she pulled him down or if he let himself collapse into her lap. Soon enough, he found himself curled up on the bed with Belle cradling his head in her lap and stroking his forehead lightly. He was bent over awkwardly but couldn’t really care; then his feet were suddenly elevating and moving on their own, and he realized that Bae had lifted his feet and was pulling his boots off. Between the two of them, they got him settled, and Rumplestiltskin let his eyes slide shut once more.

“You rest,” Belle said softly. “We’ll be here.”

“I’m—” he tried to object.

“Rest,” his True Love cut him off. “No arguments.”

His son’s hand landed on his shoulder again, and his head’s wild spinning finally seemed to slow. A little.

“We’ll be right here, Papa,” Bae echoed. “You heal yourself. Let us worry about the rest for now.”

 

****************

 

“That was so cool,” Henry told both of his mothers, and was rewarded with a crooked smile from Regina and a cross look from Emma.

The different reactions his two mothers had to Henry going anywhere near anything dangerous were often befuddling; while Regina had been oppressively overprotective when Henry was younger, nowadays she was a lot more accepting of his desire to get involved. Emma, on the other hand, seemed determined to cocoon him in bubble wrap and save him from absolutely anything that came their way. Perhaps that came from her having missed so much of his life—like when he was really younger and needed coddling—or maybe it came from the fact that she was the Savior. _Or maybe she remembers me being little and is confused because it didn’t happen_ , Henry thought to himself, smiling at the absurdity of it all. Having two sets of memories really did complicate things, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his birth mom had problems balancing the two. Emma had always been more straightforward than she was creative, after all, and if that meant she felt the need to cosset him, Henry figured he could deal.

Even if Emma did drive him crazy sometimes.

“That wasn’t supposed to be _cool_ ,” she told him sternly. “And you weren’t supposed to be watching. _You_ were supposed to be safely tucked away in the castle.”

Henry gave her his best smile. “Oops?”

“That’s when you’re supposed to apologize, Henry,” Regina put in, but Henry thought he saw a smile lurking in his adopted mother’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said as sincerely as he could manage, since he _was_ sorry that he had disobeyed all three of his parents. Robin had tried to pull Henry away from the battle, but Henry had given his (hopefully) future stepfather the slip, creeping up to watch his grandfather do battle against the most dangerous fairy in history. To be honest, Henry wasn’t really sorry that he’d come back; he’d _had_ to know what was going to happen. It wasn’t only his future at stake; it was the fate of the world.

Henry wasn’t ten any longer, and he knew what both the Blue Fairy and Black Fairy wanted from him. He didn’t like admitting that he was still a little bit scared—or had been, anyway, before he’d watched Grandpa Gold go blow for blow with the Black Fairy and come out of it as well as she had—but he was. And that fear was why he’d _had_ to see what was happening. Henry was descended from sorcerers and heroes, and he wasn’t someone who could sit back while others fought for him. Yeah, he might have only been thirteen (almost fourteen), but Henry wasn’t a little kid any more. He was ready to start fighting for himself, and—

“I bet you are,” Emma grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Is Grandpa Gold going to be okay?” Henry asked, mostly because he wanted to, but also because he knew that changing the subject would make Emma less cranky with him.

“I think so, yeah,” Emma replied slowly. “He looked pretty beat down when we got him to his rooms, but he’s tough.”

“Rumplestiltskin won’t die until he’s good and ready, no matter how much people might want him to,” Regina put in dryly, and Henry had to smile.

“You used to want him to, didn’t you?” he asked curiously.

Regina shrugged, and Henry was glad to see that she looked more amused than uncomfortable. “Not usually. Rumple…well, he was the only friend I had for a long time. It was a complicated friendship, but, well, it worked.”

Henry grinned. “So, does that mean—”

He felt it at the same time both of his mothers did, and Henry felt Emma grab for him even as Regina’s magic swept him backwards, away from the incoming danger. All three of them turned together, wheeling to face the fae who had teleported into the room behind them. Emma had joined Henry and Regina in the Charmings’ private family dining room a few minutes earlier—Henry was always hungry these days; Regina said it was because he was growing like a weed and Emma claimed it was his father’s fault—but now the choice of location seemed very fortuitous. At least there was no one else there.

“Stay behind us, Henry,” Emma ordered, and he obeyed…mostly. He did stand far enough off to one side to get a look at the enemy who had somehow breached the defenses Regina had put up around his grandparents’ castle months earlier.

This fae was a woman, like most of them were, although Henry knew he’d seen this one before. This was the one with white blond hair and a vicious expression, who had threatened both his mothers and almost continued the battle after the Black Fairy and Grandpa Gold went down. She was nasty all around, Henry suspected, and looked more than ready to pick another fight.

“Oh, yes,” the fae snickered. “Stay behind them, Henry. For all the good it will do you.”

“Come back for more, have you?” Regina snarled, and Henry could feel the magic that the Evil Queen was already calling to herself. His mom was a match for anything any fae could throw at her, and both of them together were just about unbeatable.

“I’ve come for the boy,” the fae snapped, her angular face twisting up in a snarl. “Stand aside or die.”

“The hell we’re letting you take our son,” Emma interjected, and her hands were starting to glow, and Henry pushed back a smile. Emma had come so far in the past four years, from the lonely bail bondswoman who had refused to believe in the curse now to a sorceress who had married Henry’s dad. She was amazing, and Henry hoped she never forgot that.

And his moms were even more amazing _together_.

“So unless you’ve got a lot more fae hiding in your back pocket, Jhudora, you might want to leave now,” Regina continued for Emma. “Because otherwise, the only way we’re letting you go is in a body bag.”

“Regina, I do believe you were corrupted by your time in the Land Without Magic,” Emma put in with a grin. “I didn’t think you people used body bags here.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “The sentiment is the same, Swan.”

It was all Henry could do not to laugh, but he could feel his mothers’ magic starting to combine even as they threw verbal barbs at one another. He could almost see it, if he squinted just right, and that realization made his heart race. Henry knew that none of the various sorcerers in his family were ready to teach him magic—they all seemed to be adopting Grandpa Gold’s line that he had to wait a few years—but for now it was enough to know that he would be able to learn it someday.

“ _My_ sentiment is that I’ll simply have to kill you both. Unless the boy is brave enough to do the right thing and save your lives by coming with me,” Jhudora retorted arrogantly.

Henry snorted. “I’m brave enough to trust in my family, actually. So you’re the one who should run away. Really.”

“Not a chance!”

Jhudora didn’t say another word; she only attacked with a dark cloud of fairy dust and what almost looked like sharp metal shards. It roared in on Emma and Regina so quickly that Henry could barely follow it, but Emma deflected it while Regina’s own attack honed in on the fae. Jhudora blocked that—she _was_ powerful—but Henry’s two mothers easily defeated her second attack and then each landed one of their own. Jhudora snarled in incoherent fury, firing magic of ever-increasing power at each sorceress, but so long as they stood together, Emma and Regina’s defenses never cracked. Watching his mothers work together so well was absolutely unbelievable, and although Henry knew he should be worried—after all, the fae wanted his _heart_ —he couldn’t help grinning as he watched.

The battle was short and nasty. Within five minutes, the fae crumbled to the ground, her heart crumbling to dust between Regina’s fingers. Emma had distracted her while Regina got in close, and it had been the Savior’s magic that froze Jhudora in place when she tried to run. Henry supposed that a normal teenager would be horrified to watch his mothers work together to kill someone, he really was just relieved. This was a war, after all, and they had to win. There really wasn’t another choice.

“Are you all right, Henry?” Emma turned to him worriedly even as Regina finished killing Jhudora.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You two were _awesome_.”

“Yeah, well, I wish you didn’t have to see that.”

Henry sighed. Would Emma _ever_ stop worrying about him? “Mom, I’m not three.”

“No, but you’re still our son,” Regina cut in. “That means we wish you didn’t have to see such things.”

“By the laws here, I’m almost a man,” Henry argued.

“The _old_ laws, kid,” Emma replied. “Your grandparents are changing that law to sixteen, not fourteen. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself.”

That made him grimace. Henry loved his family, but he really hated being treated like he was still a ten year old. Yeah, he understood that all three of his parents, along with his grandparents and the rest of his extended family (or almost family) worried about him, but he could take the harsh realities of the Enchanted Forest. He hadn’t even blinked when Jhudora died, except with relief. Maybe that said something bad about him, but Henry was ready to stay in this world and accept it for what it was. They had a war to win, and he wanted to help.

 

****************

 

Light intruded slowly, and Rumplestiltskin woke up with his head still in Belle’s lap. He was curled up on his side, somehow without the dragonskin coat he’d been wearing when Belle and Bae had convinced him to lie down, and he had no memory of anyone taking it off of him. The way he was curled up was a little awkward and every bone in his body still ached, but now at least it was a dull pain, nothing like the fiery burn of magical exhaustion. His right hand was still held loosely in Belle’s, and her other hand lay gently on his head, playing absently with his hair.

Blinking his eyes open, Rumplestiltskin licked his lips and searched for his voice. Belle beat him to it.

“Hey, you,” she said with a smile.

“Hi,” he croaked hoarsely. _I’ve got to quit doing this to her. How many times have I woken with Belle caring for me after something horrible? This is at least three—but at least this time I was no one’s victim._ Their fight might have been a draw, but at least it taught Danns that he’d never be her victim again, nor her slave.

“How are you feeling?” Belle asked, her fingers slipping into his hair again and stroking gently. Groggily, Rumplestiltskin leaned into her touch, feeling the tension in his muscles relax slowly. Belle had always been able to reach him in even the darkest moments; she was the light in his life, the strength he had never had on his own. But then he realized that they were alone, and his heart hammered against his ribcage in panic.

“Where’s Bae?”

Sitting up quickly enough to make himself dizzy again, Rumplestiltskin looked wildly around the room, his eyes searching desperately for his son. But the room looked like a whirlwind, mahogany furniture blurring together into one rich brown streak, and a long moment passed before Rumplestiltskin could focus well enough to confirm that his son indeed was not there. The dizziness wasn’t as bad as it had been before he’d lain down, but there were still obviously some lingering injuries from his battle with the Black Fairy. Healed though he was, some issues would haunt him for days or weeks to come. But Bae had been there when he’d fallen asleep, had promised he’d still be there when he woke up. Rumplestiltskin had been wary of allowing himself to fall asleep precisely because he’d been certain something would happen, that the fae would—

“He’s fine,” Belle reassured him quickly. “He just went to check on Henry. A fae showed up a few hours ago, trying to kidnap him while you were asleep. Emma and Regina killed her.”

There were times that being so good at predicting people was its own curse. His chest tightened with fear, and the words almost didn’t come out at all. “Is Henry all right?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Belle’s hand shifted to his chin, gently turning his head so that Rumplestiltskin faced her. His vision was slowly clearing now, and the wave of dizziness passed, allowing him a clear look at Belle’s beautiful but worried face. “You did it, Rumple. You stopped her, and everyone is safe.”

She leaned in to brush her lips against his, and Rumplestiltskin let his eyes slide shut, relief coursing through him. His family was safe. That was all he really cared about; if he had to battle Danns a thousand times more to make sure they stayed safe, he would. Rumplestiltskin was a selfish man, after all, and always had been. His family was _safe_ , all of them. For once in his ill-begotten life, he had done the right thing. So, when Belle shifted to rest her forehead against his, Rumplestiltskin let himself revel in the closeness between them. He needed her so badly, and Belle had never once let him down.

“Without you, I am nothing,” he murmured, finally reaching out to wrap his arms around her. And if he clung to her a little too much, well, Rumplestiltskin had never been strong. He had gone three rounds with their world’s equivalent of the devil and lived to tell the tale. Rumplestiltskin would probably always hate and fear Danns in equal measure, and he needed someone to center him now that the battle was done.

“Don’t say that,” she chided him, leaning back to look Rumplestiltskin in the eyes, her hand still on his cheek. Belle’s blue eyes shone with compassion, but also a little bit of fond exasperation. “I know you, Rumplestiltskin. And I know that you’ve never thought very highly of yourself. But you’re _wrong_. I’ve always seen you for what you are, and you are a good man who did the right thing for _all_ of us. And I love you.”

“I’m not a good man, Belle. Just a selfish one,” he said softly.

“Call it what you will.” She kissed him again, just as gently as before, but this time Rumplestiltskin felt the soft edges of power working their way into him. “I don’t expect to be perfect, you know. Just yourself.”

Warmth stole through him, and for a beautifully painful moment, Rumplestiltskin didn’t know what to say. He could only smile at her in wonder, marveling at the fact that this amazing woman had never lost faith in him, despite all he had put her through. Answering his smile with one of her own, Belle reached up and brushed hair out of his face, and Rumplestiltskin let himself lean into her touch. “I suppose that’s good, since I’m what you get, flaws and all.”

“You were amazing today,” Belle replied, and he could see _pride_ shining in her eyes. Rumplestiltskin had so rarely made someone proud of him like this; it was a new feeling and one that actually made him a little uneasy.

“Was that still today?” he asked to cover up his whirlwind of emotions, much though he was certain Belle saw right through him.

“Not really.” She smiled. “It’s dark out, and you missed dinner.”

Ugh. The thought of eating made his stomach fold in on itself, and Rumplestiltskin scowled as he asked: “How long was I asleep?”

“Five hours or so. It was almost sunset when Bae and Emma got you up here, and I think you spent an hour healing yourself. It’s past midnight now.”

“Oh.” Rumplestiltskin hadn’t even been certain how long his battle with Danns had lasted, but it had started sometime shortly after noon, hadn’t it? That meant that they’d fought with one another for over six hours, maybe as long as seven or eight. Rumplestiltskin had heard of long magical battles happening in the old days, but nothing like that had happened in the last thousand years. No wonder why he felt awful.

“Are you hungry?”

“Maybe in the morning.” Another grimace made its way past his fragmented self-control, and Belle stroked his face while Rumplestiltskin smiled wanly. “I don’t think I could keep anything down right now,” he explained after a moment. “Too much magic running through my system.”

“I didn’t know magic could do that,” she replied, and he could see the questions in her eyes. Belle knew more about magical theory than almost anyone Rumplestiltskin had ever met; she’d read nearly every book on it that he owned, and Belle’s grasp on the subject surpassed most sorcerers Rumplestiltskin had known.

He shrugged. “The amount of power I channeled today…well, the human body wasn’t really meant to handle that.”

“It’s not going to…?”

“Kill me? Of course not. Nothing that bad, sweetheart.”

Belle chuckled softly. “I was just asking if it was going to keep causing your problems.”

“Oh.” Thankfully, she didn’t ask him if he would have told her had the magic been killing him. Rumplestiltskin was sure he would have told Belle eventually had that been the case, but would he have said so now? He didn’t know. “I may be a little under the weather. Not quite myself.”

“I think you’re doing all right for the man who just went toe to toe with the Black Fairy,” his fiancée told him with another smile. “You should hear how people are talking about you now. It’s almost as if they never feared or doubted you. They’re calling you a hero.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted. “Then they don’t know me very well.”

“ _I_ think you might have some latent heroic tendencies, after all. Much though you deny it,” Belle replied, grinning at the way he scowled. Leaning forward, she kissed him on the nose, and the sudden playfulness to her actions made Rumplestiltskin smile despite himself.

“I think you’re dreaming,” he countered lightly.

“No, if I were dreaming, I wouldn’t be this tired.” Belle’s giggle was a little strained, and Rumplestiltskin suddenly noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Now it was his turn to touch her face.

“You stayed up while I slept, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Her eyes flicked downwards, just like they always did when Belle was trying to be evasive. She really was a terrible liar, Rumplestiltskin knew, but he’d not have her any other way.

“Then why don’t we both rest now?” he suggested. “We can argue about heroics, my utter lack of heroic tendencies, and your optimistic delusions in the morning.”

“You know I’ll fight to the death on that,” she grinned back.

“I bet you will.” Rumplestiltskin leaned in to kiss his love gently, and then pulled her close. They would always have their differences, he and Belle, but their love held them together even when the world tried to tear them apart.

So, Belle exchanged her now-wrinkled dress for a nightgown and then helped Rumplestiltskin to sluggishly swap out his leather pants and silk shirt for night clothes. His body was still prone to randomly disobeying his commands, and he knew that he’d be good for nothing more than sleep that night, but that didn’t matter. Belle was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, and for the few moments past that he lasted, Rumplestiltskin just allowed himself to listen to her steady breathing. Her head was nestled against his chest and one of her hands tangled in his nightshirt, and Rumplestiltskin fell asleep with a smile on his face. _This_ was what he was fighting for. Belle gave him the strength to face anything.

****************


	57. With Friends Like These

**_Chapter Fifty-Six—“With Friends Like These”_ **

 

Leave it to Maleficent to slip Regina a note and not mention it.  She’d been halfway through dinner with Robin, Roland, and Henry (Emma and Baelfire had wandered off somewhere by themselves, and Regina was more than happy to take her son off of their hands) when Roland had discovered the note, reaching into the folds of Regina’s dress like only a child could.  His quick little fingers plucked the note out before Regina even knew it was there, and although she tried to chide the budding little pickpocket, holding back her smile was hard.  Roland really was his father’s son, and while the old Regina would have been disgusted by that, now she was amused.

Once she coaxed the note away from Roland—which required a promise for a _very_ good bedtime story—Regina read it quickly, cursing her best friend’s confounding ability to be cryptic at the very worst of times. 

_Meet me where I found my most loyal friend,_ the note said, mystic and cryptic as ever.  Knowing Maleficent, she took pleasure in confusing anyone who might read the note, even if it had been passed directly from her to Regina.  But that was Maleficent for you.  She played the mysterious sorceress on the mountaintop all too well.

So Regina departed breakfast after watching Henry skip off to spend the day with Aladdin, all grins and barely restrained energy.  Henry had made very few friends around his age over the years, and now he seemed to have finally found one in this formerly homeless thief that Maleficent had rescued from the fae.  Aladdin seemed like a good kid, schooled in some magic and eager to make friends amongst those who fought the fae.  Henry certainly liked him, and although Regina shuddered to think of the trouble those two could get in together, Robin promised to keep an eye on them while she was gone.

“It took you long enough,” Maleficent snapped as Regina appeared in the grove where Maleficent had found Diaval so many years ago.  The former fairy loved that damn shape-shifting unicorn, she knew, and had once been convinced that finding some such companion would do wonders for Regina, too.  But the Evil Queen had not been interested in happiness back then, no matter how many times Maleficent had brought her to this extremely magical grove and tried to tempt her with its wondrous creatures.

“I didn’t notice your note right away,” she replied defensively, glaring at her best friend.

“I could have warned you about the attack on Henry if you’d been more observant.”

“You could have enchanted the enchanted the note to poke me or something, instead just of making it transfer from one dress to the next,” Regina retorted with a snort.  “It took a four year old to find it.”

Maleficent’ s eyes gleamed wickedly.  “I was trying to make sure _you_ could find it.  Seems I did well enough on that front.”

“Very funny.  What _did_ you want?” Regina asked, rolling her eyes.  She didn’t think Maleficent would have summoned her here just to talk, but you never knew with Maleficent.  She took odd risks sometimes; her fairy-born brain just didn’t work like a human’s did.  Maybe she was just lonely.  Being a spy behind enemy lines had to be hard.

“Our Lady”—Maleficent shook her head and grimaced wryly, and then she started again:  “Now I’m sounding like a fae.  The _Black Fairy_ is planning something…big.  I don’t know what for certain, but she is gathering objects of power and delving into some of the darkest magics I have ever seen.  She could not defeat Rumplestiltskin outright, but she certainly has not given up.”

Regina shrugged.  “No one thought she had.”

_And now she’s down another powerful fae,_ she thought with satisfaction, barely managing not to smirk.  _I took care of that.  With Emma’s help._

“You don’t understand,” Maleficent cut into her smugness bluntly.  “Danns' a'Bhàis will burn the entire world before she’ll go back into exile.  If humanity will not bow to her, she will not care who or what she destroys.”

That was a rosy thought.

“What do you think she’ll do?” Regina asked instead of brushing her friend’s concerns aside like she once would have done.  After all, winning one battle against one fae did not make a victory in the war, and Regina knew better these days.

“I don’t know.”  Worry creased Maleficent’s timeless features.  “But I’m sure it will be…dramatic.  Warn the others, Regina, and watch yourself.  She’s noticed you, too, and Danns' a'Bhàis does not forgive someone who killed one of her fae, even if she did not like Jhudora very much.”

“I’ll remember that,” she promised.

Better her than Emma, Regina supposed.  Their little savior wouldn’t know what to do as the target of an old fashioned blood feud, but Regina understood vengeance all too well.  And she’d faced the Black Fairy before, too.  She had no desire to do so ever again, but if Regina had to fight her, she’d make sure that Danns' a'Bhàis had to earn her victory.  Hell, maybe she’d even finagle Excalibur out of her stepson-in-law and see if she could get a lucky blow in.  That would end things quite nicely, unlikely though that outcome was.

But it might be the only thing that could save her friend, Regina realized, noticing the fear hidden behind Maleficent’s ancient eyes.  On impulse, she reached out to grab Maleficent’s hand before the fallen fairy could disappear. 

“Take care of yourself, all right?” she said softly.

Maleficent smiled crookedly.  “I shall do my best.”

They shared one last glance and then Maleficent was gone, leaving Regina to wonder if she would ever see her again.

 

****************

 

“Where were you?” Vidia asked as soon as Maleficent stepped into her own rooms.  Seeing her lover there made her blink; Maleficent had thought Vidia had been assigned a task that would take her far away for hours yet.

“I went for a walk,” she replied with a casual shrug, but a cold feeling was beginning to settle into her stomach.

“No, you didn’t.  Don’t lie to me, Maleficent.  I’m trying to help you.”

Appearing unconcerned was hard, and she swallowed hard before she could stop herself.  “Are you certain you want to do that?”

She had always known that circumstances would someday force Vidia to choose between herself and the fae; Maleficent had just not expected Vidia to do so quickly or without fanfare.

“Don’t be a fool.  Agor is questioning your loyalty already.  He put a tracking spell on you and—”

“And I went to the grove where I left my pet unicorn,” Maleficent interjected as causally as she could manage.  She shouldn’t want to protect Vidia, had told herself not to get attached.  But it was too late to undo her own emotional entanglements, and besides, she could not bring herself to be regret a moment of their time together.  Still, damn it all, she wanted to keep Vidia as far away from the fallout as possible.  “There is no crime in visiting my old companion.”

Vidia scowled; Maleficent had not fallen in love with a fool.  “I know what you’ve been doing, Maleficent,” she said quietly, looking torn but determined.  “And if I do, the others will soon.”

“ _You’ve_ been spying on me.”  Didn’t that turn the tables?  Maleficent did not enjoy being out-maneuvered.

“I’ve been trying to save you from yourself,” her lover answered sadly.  “And now I shall.  Run.”

“What?”

“Just go.  Go before the others find you…and perhaps I will see you when this is all over.”

There was no time to spare; Maleficent was not such a fool as to delay.  But she kissed Vidia anyway.  Neither of them had meant to get attached, but they had, and maybe they could save one another before the end.

 

****************

 

“We’re never going to get a break, are we?” Emma asked her husband philosophically. 

Her husband.  What a strange thought that still was.  Emma didn’t regret marrying Neal, not for a moment—and she certainly didn’t regret having done so the way she had!  Much though she loved Neal (and could finally admit that to herself), Emma would have gone insane if she’d had to endure some torturously huge wedding like her mother would have planned for them.  Doing it quickly had definitely been for the best, and Emma would never forget the delighted look on Henry’s face as they finally tied the knot.  Some girls dreamed of big weddings, but all Emma had ever cared about was having family to have there, which she’d had.  The rest was just icing on the cake, and making her son (and the rest of her family) happy was what mattered most.

“Hey, at least we’re not bored, right?” he countered with that same crooked smile that had always made Emma’s heart beat a little faster.

“You can say that again,” she groaned.  She’d helped kill a fae the night before, but that didn’t mean this mess was anywhere near taken care of.  Frowning, Emma admitted softly: “I’m still worried about Henry.”

Having someone to share those worries with was still new, and sometimes a little strange.  Back in New York, both in the year that had been real and the memories of a life that hadn’t been, it had always just been the two of them.  So, being able to lean on a fellow parent—one who wasn’t Regina and she didn’t fight with all the time—was kind of nice.

“Me, too,” Neal replied, reaching out to grab a branch off of a nearby tree and break it in frustration.  They’d gone for am morning walk to get away from everyone for a little while, but Emma knew that their escape would be short-lived.

“It’s never going to stop, is it?” she sighed, sinking down to sit on a log and glancing at her hands.  “Blue might have promised to stop going after Henry’s heart, but even _I_ can see the loophole in that.  She’ll get someone else to do it for her, probably Cyan or some minion of Leah’s.  And the fae won’t quit, either.”

“No, they won’t.”  At least Neal never lied to make her feel better.  He had been an idiot in a host of other ways, but at least he was an honest idiot.  _Her_ honest idiot.  He continued firmly: “And we’ll keep fighting them.”

“There’s got to be a better way.”  Emma’s frustration was only building.  Damn magic.  Damn fairies.  Damn this world and all of its weirdness.  “Sooner or later, one of us is going to slip up, and Henry’s going to pay the price.  Fighting isn’t enough.  How do we _stop_ them?”

“Short of killing them all, I’m not sure how,” Neal replied.  “And we just saw how well that works sometimes.”

“There has to be a way,” Emma said stubbornly, racking her brain for options.  She was supposed to be the Savior; surely there was something she could come up with!  But all she seemed able to manage at the moment was glaring at a nearby tree and saying: “Short of sending him back to New York.”

Snow had suggested that earlier that morning, hesitantly and unhappily.  A part of Emma had wanted to jump on it, but even as her heart leapt, Emma knew that going back to the Land Without Magic wasn’t the answer.  Assuming they could find a way to cross between the worlds—something that was apparently even harder now that Regina’s reversal of the curse had severed the links between the Enchanted Forest and the land Emma had always thought of as home—there was no way to guarantee Henry’s safety there, either.  Running away had never fixed any of Emma’s problems, no matter how hard she’d tried, and it was time to stop running.

“The fae would only follow us, anyway,” Neal pointed out, just like he had earlier.  If Emma’s nod was a little reluctant, well, she did have fond memories of that world and a certain yellow bug.

“I know,” she said.  “Besides…I’d miss this place.  It’s home now.”

“Not to mention that Henry would never forgive us.”

“I’m damn certain your dad wouldn’t, either,” Emma pointed out.  It was a good thing that they’d never seriously contemplated the idea of going back, because Emma knew that Rumplestiltskin had been willing to rip worlds apart to get back to Neal the last time.  He’d undoubtedly be perfectly happy to do the same thing again, and now that he had a lot more power at his disposal, it would undoubtedly be a disaster.

“No, Pop wouldn’t take that well at all,” her husband agreed.  “But…well, he’s got to have something up his sleeve.  We’re not the only ones worrying about Henry, after all.  I’ll talk to him.”

Emma scraped up a wry smile.  “I guess I’m not used to having his help without having to ask what it’ll cost me.”

“You’re family now,” Neal replied immediately, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close.  “Papa takes that seriously.”

“I guess this’ll just take some getting used to,” she said with a smile, kissing her husband back.  They had been only married for a little over a week, after all, and it wasn’t like they hadn’t been busy.  The idea of calling Gold family was still odd, and even if Emma had never hesitated to turn to him if she needed help (and felt she could pay the price), knowing that he might not actually rake her over the coals was, well, kind of nifty.  If unbelievable.

Still, she leaned into Neal’s embrace and let herself treasure the short moment of quiet, the calm between the previous storm and the one Emma was sure was yet to come.  This battle was far from over, and their son remained the prize that everyone was fighting for.  There had to be _some_ way to keep Henry safe, but for the life of her, Emma couldn’t see what it was.  But at least she wasn’t the only one working on that.  Her parents were prepared to do whatever it took to keep Henry safe, and Neal was right.  His father was undoubtedly on their side, too, which meant Belle’s brilliant brain was at their disposal.  And of course Regina was concerned, too; she loved Henry more than life itself, a feeling Emma completely understood.  The answer might not be easy to find, but it _was_ out there, and Emma wasn’t going to stop fighting until she found it.

 

****************

 

Baelfire was always good to his word.  After he and Emma headed inside, he went upstairs to the rooms Snow and David had reserved for his father and Belle, wondering if Rumplestiltskin would be awake yet or still sleeping off the magical battle that had happened the day before.  When Bae had stuck his head in to check on his parent before breakfast, he and Belle had both still been sleeping (thankfully clothed; Bae had _no_ desire to walk in on them working on a  younger sibling for him, thank you very much!).  But since he and Emma had finally parted ways around noon, he was willing to bet that his father would be awake.  Even when Bae had been a child, Rumplestiltskin had been an early riser, never seeming to sleep much at all.  Magic had changed a lot about him, but not that.

Fortunately, Rumplestiltskin was up and dressed when Bae showed up, looking a little pale and rough around the edges, but otherwise far more put together than his father had been the night before.  Belle was nowhere in sight, but Rumplestiltskin gestured his son in with a wave of one hand, putting down the book he’d been reading but not getting up.

“Hey, Pop.  Got a minute?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“For you? Always.” 

The smile that creased his father’s face was tired, and probably because of that it vividly reminded Bae of the ones he’d so often received as a child.  Back then, before magic, his father had always been tired, always working so very hard to give Bae a better life.  He’d missed those years terribly after his father had taken on the curse, hadn’t appreciated sharing his father with a demon.  Pining for his beloved Papa had turned Bae towards anger and fear; he’d come to hate the Dark One who had consumed his father, and when he’d finally stopped running long enough to actually _look_ at his father, a long time passed before he realized how hard Rumplestiltskin was trying to be at least some of the man he had been before the curse.

Now, after the curse, Bae found his father a sometimes-crooked mixture of the spinner he had been and the sorcerer he became.  Rumplestiltskin would be the first to tell him that three hundred years under such a curse had left irrevocable stains on his soul, but there were times when Bae could see the spinner shining through.  The unrestrained, unfettered love in his father’s smile was a hallmark of the good man he had once been.  And so was the fact that Rumplestiltskin was willing to go up against the darkest fairy in all creation to protect his family.  Oh, there were some optimistic fools already whispering that Rumplestiltskin had done it for humanity’s sake, but Bae knew better.  His father had done it to protect those he loved, and even if that didn’t make him as much of a hero as say, David, it was more than good enough for Baelfire.

“It’s about Henry, actually,” he replied, plopping down in the chair next to his father’s.  Judging from the second book that was on the table, Belle had been there not too long ago.  Either that, or his father was emulating his fiancé’s habits, and reading two books at once.

_The Book of the City of Ladies_ , the cover read.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t his Papa’s type of book.  Or at least he hoped not.  Belle, on the other hand, would certainly read what looked like an epic romance.

“Is Henry all right?” Rumplestiltskin asked worriedly.  “I didn’t know about last night until—”

“He’s fine,” Bae cut him off, waving a hand to forestall his father before Rumplestiltskin could start to stand.  “And Emma and Regina dealt with that fae chick just fine.  No, it’s not about that.”

“Then what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, Bae tried to explain.  “Emma and I were talking this morning…and, it’s never going to stop, is it?  Even Blue _does_ keep her end of your deal and stop going after Henry’s heart, that won’t stop the Black Fairy.  And, um, judging from yesterday…well, she’ll be a bit harder to intimidate than Blue, huh?”

“A bit, yes,” was the dry response, and Bae thought he saw his father’s face twitch slightly.  

Bae didn’t know much about magical history, but he was pretty damn sure that a battle like the one in which his father had duked it out with the Black Fairy hadn’t happened in a thousand plus years, or maybe not ever.  He wasn’t Regina, and hadn’t been able to follow even half of the spells and earthshaking _power_ Rumplestiltskin and the Black Fairy had thrown at one another, but even Bae had been able to see how gigantic the battle had been.  He’d felt the magic deep in his bones, had felt the strain on both of them and the way everything had seemed to _stop_ for a few long minutes there in the beginning.  That starburst of power had been truly terrifying, and for a few minutes there, Bae had been certain that they would kill one another, and he’d lose his father.  Again.

But he hadn’t, and now he had to worry about his son.  Why was it that they were always rushing from one crisis to the next?

“So, how do we keep Henry safe?” he asked quietly, reaching out for Belle’s book, just to have something to fool with.  Having his hands full meant they were busy, and maybe that would help Bae worry less.

“I’ve been…working on something,” Rumplestiltskin replied slowly, and his tone told Bae that it was something that most of them weren’t going to like.  But his father continued before Bae could ask, saying: “A few things, actually.   One of them is a bracelet rather like the ring I made for Belle.  It will protect Henry, even from the Black Fairy.  Do you think he’d be willing to wear it?”

“Of course he would.”  Or Bae would shake his son until he did, anyway.  In some ways, Henry was a typical teen and could get odd about some things, but Bae was pretty sure that Henry understood what was at stake.  Yes, he trusted his family to protect him—when he wasn’t busy asking various relatives when they’d start teaching him magic so he could protect himself—but Henry knew better than to take any crazy risks.  Usually.

“Then I’ll fetch it from the Dark Castle,” his father said with a wan smile.  “Though I may need a day or two to put the finishing touches on it.”

“Still pretty tired?”

“I’m fine.”  Rumplestiltskin looked like he wanted to evade the question, but Bae arched an eyebrow and his father relented.  “The human body was not meant to act as a conduit for so much power, so, yes.  I am tired.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Papa,” he said softly, reaching out briefly—putting Belle’s book down to do so—to touch his father’s shoulder.  Their eyes met, and Rumplestiltskin smiled back.

“Me, too, son,” he answered, and then Bae could see his formidable mind turning back to the problem at hand.  “Now.  As for Henry, we can create a spell that will allow him to teleport to safety as well, but I’ll need your help for that.  And Emma’s.”

“Because we’re his parents?”

“Yes, among other things.”  Bae shot him a confused look, but his father brushed the unspoken question aside.  “Also, if you see Regina, send her my way.  If the four of us layer protections on Henry—in addition to the bracelet I have created—it will make it much harder for the fae to harm him.”

His father was an expert wordsmith, and Bae had long since learned to pay attention to the words he did not say as much as the ones that he did.  And in this case, there was one glaring omission he could not ignore.  “But not impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, Bae.  Particularly for Danns.  She _is_ an original power, and her knowledge of magic is unparalleled.  The best we can do is turn her attention away from Henry as much as possible. _That_ will keep him safe.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” he asked warily.

Rumplestiltskin’s answering smile was crooked.  “Let me worry about that.”

 

****************

 

She was going to die of boredom if the fae didn’t hurry up and do the deed.

The small cell was windowless and obnoxiously natural, all woods and smooth edges and maddeningly uniform.  There was dried blood on the floor, but Maleficent didn’t want to think about where that had come from and refused to ask.  She thought she’d been locked in here for the better part of a day or so, though that was only a guess.  Telling time in this tiny cube of fae power was impossible.  _Couldn’t they have included a window?_   Even the lighting never changed; the dull glow lingered no matter how many minute ticked by, and Maleficent was not the sort to amuse herself by counting the seconds.  Particularly without magic.

Angrily, she tugged at the bronze band around her right wrist, trying to dig the nails of her left hand under it again.  She could slip one underneath the band, barely, but doing so accomplished nothing.  All she managed to do was scratch herself.  Again.  She’d known that these bands existed, but had never imagined how _deaf_ she would feel with them on.  Blind.  Dumb.  Helpless.  _Bored._  

Oh, she had known this was a risk when she’d accepted the mission of infiltrating the fae.  Maleficent had even known that she was more likely than not to get caught eventually.  After all, the Black Fairy was arrogant, not stupid.  Sooner or later, something would shake her out of her complacency and she would turn that intelligence onto those closest to her, thus realizing that Maleficent really _wasn’t_ dancing to her tune.  Maleficent had just expected a little bit of warning before that day came, more than Vidia telling her to run and even that turning out to be too late.  Perhaps she should have left when she sent Aladdin away, but her conversation with Danns after that had convinced her that she was still trusted enough to stay.  She should have gone with her first instinct, should have used her student to distract the others while she made her own way out of fae territory…but Maleficent had always been loyal to those she cared about.  Besides, it hadn’t mattered in the end.  When she _had_ tried to run, it had already been too late.  Maleficent had been able to feel the terrifying strength of an original power reaching out for her, and she had known she was done for.

The best she could hope for now was that the war might somehow end before she died.  Otherwise…well, Maleficent had a feeling that she knew why the Black Fairy hadn’t killed her outright.  Maleficent already knew far too much about the Vault of the Dark One for her own health, and already had a very strong suspicion about _whose_ life the Black Fairy intended to sacrifice in order to bring her new pet back to life.  _Pity it’ll be Zoso_ , she thought to herself.  _He really was one of the most_ boring _Dark Ones, not to mention one of the more vicious._   A part of her really was very offended by the fact that her life would fuel Zoso’s next one, but Maleficent supposed that there was always a price to be paid.

The Black Fairy had almost killed her once, after all.  Perhaps this was just her time.

 

****************

 

“So, how’re the first ten day as of married life treating you?” David asked Emma with a smile as she lowered her sword.

Her father did the same; they were both panting for air and sweating heavily in the hot afternoon air.  Their fencing bout, originally meant to be short and just a bit of relief for the pent up stress that Emma was feeling, had turned into a best of twenty-something match before Emma lost count.  David had beaten her more times than he hadn’t, but she still felt like she’d done pretty well for herself, particularly since she was sparring with Prince-freaking-Charming.  Her own sword skills had been learned rather haphazardly, from fighting dragons and ogres to learning on the fly during this (mostly ended) war, so her father had taken it upon himself to polish Emma’s technique when she’d been looking for a way to unwind.

“Pretty good,” she admitted, a smile sneaking onto her face.  Part of Emma had expected to be miserable—her pessimistic side said that she shouldn’t trust this, and that everything _had_ to fall apart before too long—but she wasn’t.  And it must have shown on her face, because her father grinned.

“Good.  Otherwise, I’d have to have some serious words with my son in law,” he replied, and he only seemed to be half joking.

“Don’t you start picking on Neal,” she shot back, even though she was pretty damn sure that her husband could take care of himself.  That, and he might actually know her father better than she did, now, given that Neal had spent a year in the Enchanted Forest fighting at David’s side while Emma was trapped with no memories in New York.

“C’mon, Emma, it’s a father’s prerogative to be overprotective,” David retorted.

“Not when you’re my age!”

“Only physically.  Technically, I’m closer to sixty than fifty,” he countered with a laugh.

She shot him a look.  “I’m not sure that counts.”

“I sure feel like it does, these days,” her father replied, shrugging as they both handed their practice swords off to a servant.  _That_ still took some getting used to, having servants.  Emma was used to being self-sufficient, and she’d snapped at more than one well-meaning servant since coming back to her parents’ castle.  She didn’t meant to be short tempered with them, but Emma could take care of herself.  Having people try to look after her all day, every day, was just _weird_.

“Better you than me.  I’m tempted to smash the idiots’ heads together, or lock them in a room together and tell them that they can’t come out until they come to their senses,” Emma admitted.  “I _hate_ politics.”

“You think I don’t?  This is the stuff your mother’s good at.”

“You don’t seem that bad at it,” she replied with a shrug.  “Better than me, anyway.”

“There’s plenty of time left for you to learn,” her father reassured her, and Emma was surprised how very much having him say things like this actually helped her.  The customs of the Enchanted Forest were still somewhat alien to her, even with Neal there to point out the ridiculous ways in which things were different.  Still, she shot her father a half-hearted glare.

“Don’t get started on me inheriting again.  You _know_ how I feel about that,” she told him sternly, and David held his hands up in surrender.

“Easy, there!  I’m not going to start that fight with you again.  I know how you feel, Emma, and while I happen to think that you’re wrong, your mother and I have plenty of years left to us.  We’ll figure out the future of the kingdom some other time, whether it’s you, Henry, or Graham inheriting.  Right now, frankly, I’m more worried about this war that never seems to end.”

Emma stopped in her tracks, just outside the castle proper and trying not to groan too loudly.  “Tell me about it.”

“We’ll keep him safe,” David said softly, placing a hand on her arm and seeming to read her mind.  “Henry’s important to all of us, and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.”

“Neal’s talking to Rumplestiltskin about it, too,” she admitted, not entirely certain how her father would feel about that one.

“Good.  It’s nice to have him on our side without strings attached.”

Emma snorted out a laugh.  “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said.”

Wrapping an arm around her, David pulled her back into motion.  “Then don’t worry so much.  Your family’s here to help.  That’s what we do.”

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is Chapter Fifty-Seven: "And the Sky Falls", in which the fae try to tip the balance in their favor, Rumplestiltskin and Henry spend some time together, and tragedy strikes. In the meantime, please let me know what you think!


	58. And the Sky Falls

**_Chapter Fifty-Seven—“And the Sky Falls”_ **

 

It was a warning, they all knew. Simultaneous attacks on the home of the Blue Fairy’s most loyal human follower and that same queen’s family were bound to make people pay attention, particularly when it was accomplished in such a dramatic fashion. But the attacks were also a _distraction_ , although none of them realized that until later.

The Grand Council had recessed for the three days following the epic battle between Rumplestiltskin and the Black Fairy, partially because the Charmings’ castle required repair and partially because no one quite knew what to think about what had just happened. The first two of those days had passed very quietly, with repairs to the pertinent parts of the castle and courtyard underway and all of the guests enjoying a bit of free time, but the third day proved quite different. It hadn’t started that way; in fact, no one expected anything to go wrong at all. Several different hunting parties set out in the early hours of each morning, mostly composed of royals and their hangers-on who wanted a change of scenery. Almost two years after Regina’s reversal of the curse had destroyed Storybrooke, most of the upper classes seemed to have forgotten they’d ever lived in a more equalitarian world, and their feet were firmly planted back on the same old paths.

Belle didn’t know why that annoyed her so much. She was a daughter of the nobility, of course, and always had been, even if she’d spent time in the rather less-dignified role of a maid. So she understood wanting to get back to your old life…in some ways. But watching people lord over their former neighbors just grated under her skin, particularly when the arrogant types were the royals who’d never lifted a finger to help anyone else out back in Storybrooke. But at least most of those royals had finally learned their lesson during this war, Belle told herself. The current problems were from those who had stayed behind while everyone else was gone, particularly Queen Leah, who had led out the largest of the hunting parties and was now _late_.

Of course Belle was willing to join the search party that was going after the now-missing nobles.   Leah and her companions had departed the previous morning, and they were supposed to return late the night before, but now it was almost noon and they still weren’t back. Annoyed with Leah and Hubert though Snow might be, she was growing very concerned. Belle had been helping organize the search all morning, and now the final group was about to depart under her leadership. She’d asked Rumple to come along, but of course he’d looked at her like she was insane—apparently, he and horses did _not_ get along, and he was absolutely not getting on one for any reason.

The outraged expression on his face had actually made her giggle, particularly when Baelfire had volunteered to come along with her and his father’s scowl only deepened. Belle loved Rumple more than anything, but he really was unreasonable about some things, and it certainly didn’t hurt him to be reminded of that from time to time. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the reminder would stick this time; instead, he’d volunteered to keep an eye on Henry, which everyone thought was a good idea given the circumstances.   _And if Rumple doesn’t realize that means he’s also playing host to Henry’s new friend Aladdin…well, having things_ not _go his way is probably good for him from time to time,_ she thought with a smirk.

“Something funny?” Bae asked her, swinging a leg onto his own horse.

Belle followed suit, mounting Philippe with a smile.   “I’m just remembering your father’s expression earlier, and thinking that he doesn’t realize he’ll be watching Aladdin as well.”

“Yeah, I bet he’s going to _love_ babysitting,” Bae snorted with laughter.

“Don’t let your son hear you call it that,” she cautioned her soon to be stepson with a chuckle of her own. “He’ll say he’s too old for a babysitter, and he’s just spending time with his grandfather because he wants to.”

“Tell me about it,” he groused. “Henry’s getting too old for _everything_ , if you listen to Henry. Drives me insane. And Regina backs him up! I’m sure that I’m not exactly in line for parent of the year, but _someone’s_ got to be the mature one here, and Emma doesn’t always manage. She just misses playing video games with him.”

Belle snickered. All in all, she thought Emma—who would be her stepdaughter in law before too long, and wasn’t that just odd?—was doing fairly well here in the Enchanted Forest., particularly compared to the fish out of water she’d been in the beginning. But she could imagine the many ways in which Emma chaffed at this life. It wasn’t like what she was used to, and the war that was still going on (it had different sides, different goals, and different battles, but still the same war) probably didn’t help matters at all.

“I think you three are balancing things well, to be honest,” she replied seriously. “Having three parents for one child is difficult, but Henry’s happy, and that’s what counts.”

“It helps that he’s a great kid,” Bae replied feelingly. “I can’t imagine—wait a minute. What’s _that_?”

Squinting against the noontime sun, Belle turned her gaze to follow where Baelfire was pointing. There was a cloud of dust on the horizon, obscuring the road that led towards the Charmings’ castle from the south. That road was less frequently used than most of the others, and was shaded by trees most of the way towards the castle, but Belle could still make out the ragged group of people staggering towards them.

 

****************

 

Regina and Robin’s group found the spot where Leah’s hunting party had made its stand just as the survivors reached the Charmings’ castle. Immediately, the outlaw—a better tracker than any of the others, much though Hook _still_ wanted to disparage his skills every time the two were together—jumped off of his horse to investigate, but Regina’s magic was already feeding her answers that she did not like at all.

“This was done by fae magic,” she snarled, and her lover turned to look at her.

“And archers.” He held up a pair of arrows, but they were fletched in an unfamiliar fashion, one Regina did not recognize. Seeing her unspoken question, he shrugged. “Probably also fae.”

“Are there any survivors?” someone else asked, some useless noblewoman who couldn’t be bothered to get off her horse. Her name was Jasmine or something like that, and although she’d volunteered to help, she looked horrified at the carnage before them.

Truth be told, looking at the stacks of dead and bloodied bodies was enough to almost give Regina pause. She dismounted anyway, of course; she was the Evil Queen, and it took a lot more than a little—or a lot—of blood to turn her stomach. It had obviously been a massacre; the field stank of fae magic and fear, and there were almost as many dead horses as there were dead people. The people, however, were clumped up like they had been trying to stick together for mutual protection—much good though _that_ had done them. Whoever had killed them had obviously enjoyed it, and had taken their good sweet time, but kill them all they had.

_They rounded them up and killed them like animals,_ Regina thought furiously. _As if we were nothing more than livestock to be butchered_. She had never been some great defender of humanity, but looking at things like this made her understand why humanity had stood by and allowed the fairies to exile the fae. The problem was, of course, that many of the fairies viewed humans the same way their darker cousins did. At best, they were children to be managed. At worst, a pestilence to be eradicated. She could feel her own magic ready to answer her temper, could feel a slight breeze starting to stir around her. Regina was good at _hating_ , and it occurred to her that she hadn’t killed nearly enough fae. Yet.

“We’re still looking, my lady,” Robin answered the idiot noble (or maybe she was a princess; Regina couldn’t keep them all straight) brusquely. The rest of the Merry Men had joined him, gently turning over bodies and checking each for a pulse. But Regina’s magic fed her the answer after a simple spell.

“They’re all dead,” she grated out, bottling up her fury and its power for use another day. _I will not forget_ , Regina promised the dozens of dead humans in front of her. _And I won’t let them forget, either._

“That’s horrible,” some other inane noble muttered, and Regina was so glad that the Merry Men were along. At least they could do something useful.

“Is that _Aurora_?” Jasmine gasped, and Regina’s head snapped around.

 

****************

 

“What _are_ you working on, Grandpa?”

Henry leaned in to look over Rumplestiltskin’s shoulder as he put the finishing touches on the protective bracelet he’d created. Like the ring he had crafted for Belle, this bracelet had been made from gold that he had spun, infused with his magic and every protective spell he knew. Rumplestiltskin had fetched the nearly finished bracelet from the Dark Castle the day before, checking his wards and bringing a few supplies back to the Charmings’ castle while he was at it. When he and Belle had departed, he had not expected to spend so long at the Grand Council, but it really didn’t look like the conference was going to end any time soon. Much though he _hated_ spending time under anyone else’s roof, Rumplestiltskin knew that he couldn’t leave, either. His visions had grown increasingly confusing as of late, but he knew that something important was about to happen, and he needed to be here for that.

He’d fought Danns to a standstill three days earlier, had proven that the fae _weren’t_ all powerful and that they could be stopped. Never mind that Rumplestiltskin had his own reasons for doing so, intensely personal ones that had everything to do with those he loved and nothing to do with heroism. Showing the world that even the Black Fairy could be stopped meant his alliance of magical users would hold together just that much longer, and that meant his own freedom—and that of the grandson who he now sought to protect—was more secure than ever. That thought, of course, brought him back around to answering Henry.

“Your father told you about the bracelet I made, I assume?” he responded to Henry’s question with a question.

“Yeah. He said it would protect me.”

“And so it will.” Finishing the final spell with the sweep of one hand, Rumplestiltskin held it up, noticing how Aladdin hung back, watching the interaction with wary brown eyes. Maleficent’s chosen student was a clever lad, and Rumplestiltskin would have to find someone to continue his magical education if Maleficent remained with the fae for much longer. Perhaps Regina would be a good fit. Or even Jafar, though he wasn’t sure he’d wish the ambitious genie on the brave lad.

“How does it work?” Henry asked, cleverly, the lad probably thought. He was too young to be taught magic yet (a fact that annoyed Rumplestiltskin’s grandson to no end), but Henry wasn’t too young to ask questions, and he certainly took advantage of that fact.

“It’s made from my gold, and my magic. Much like the ring that protects Belle, it will shield you from magic designed to harm you in any way. There are hundreds of protective spells on it, all woven together so that they can’t contradict one another, and so that they will all protect you.”

“Your gold? My book said you spin gold, but I’ve never seen you do it.” Predictably, Henry picked up on all the right words.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “I do spin gold. I always have—or, ever since I’ve used magic, anyway.”

“That’s so cool! Will you show me sometime?”

“Of course. But it’ll have to wait until we’re back at the Dark Castle. I didn’t bring my”—Power sizzled across the world, igniting senses at the edge of his consciousness, and Rumplestiltskin faltered over the words before he could catch himself—“didn’t bring my spinning wheel with me.”

“Grandpa?”

Visions danced across his eyes. Past. Present. Possible futures. The _near_ future, only a few minutes away, tugging on his consciousness and monopolizing his attention. But there it was. A large golden ring, twice the height of a human, hovering in the sky before Danns, power shimmering through it. She stood before the ring, one hand extended, working complicated magic across great distances. That ring, he _knew_ those rings, both the one on her hand and the one hovering in the sky—but Danns was aiming at—

“Grandpa?” Henry repeated urgently, shaking his shoulder. Rumplestiltskin heard him, and felt it, but even as he managed to shove the visions aside, the present became more important.

Power hit him, but not directly. No, that was power beginning to pierce his wards, power that would rip into the Dark Castle faster than he could react. Rumplestiltskin could feel each level of his castle’s defenses peeling back like layers of an onion. But the blow was precise, the hole torn was small and very particular. He could _feel_ Danns’ magic drilling straight into the foundations of the Dark Castle, and Rumplestiltskin did not need to be there to know what she was aiming for, and he did not need to see the future to know, either. There was only one thing that Danns wanted from the Dark Castle—and there was not a damn thing that Rumplestiltskin could do about it. He could go there, fight now, and maybe, just _maybe_ stop her—but a second vision almost swept him off his feet, a confusing mess of power and death and something more.

Danger to Henry if he left. The foreknowledge hit Rumplestiltskin like the proverbial ton of bricks, but he knew it was true. He had a choice: protect the dagger or protect his grandson. His past or the future. But…no matter what Rumplestiltskin had always been, that choice was easy.

He could sense magic over distance, particularly when it attacked wards that he made, but there was a time delay. Everything he was sensing had happened a few seconds earlier, and by the time he could even get to his feet, the damage was done. He might have made it if he had been willing to risk Henry, but he wasn’t, and now he would be too late even if he arrived that very instant. Rumplestiltskin stood stock still, slightly dazed and utterly flabbergasted, stretching his magic out silently towards the Dark Castle to confirm what he already knew to be true. There was no denying it. No defending against it. Five seconds had been all the attack lasted, but Danns’ power had been amplified across distance by the Roth Rámach, a secondary power created by Saint Germain and later used by Mug Ruith, the blind sorcerer of legend. The Roth Rámach was commonly known as a flying wheel, but it was also a secondary power of no small consequence. It allowed Danns to throw her own considerable strength against his wards from outside the Dark Castle; she never even had to step inside his defenses.

Nor did she have to directly confront the wards; no, she was able to use the _other_ secondary power at her disposal to peel them back, and Rumplestiltskin cursed himself for a fool. He had once owned the Ring of Dispel, centuries ago, before trading it away for some other trinket. Then, he’d not realized that the ring was a secondary power, only that it would dispel any enchantment ever cast. It had been useful, but not what he’d needed at the time, and Maleficent had paid dearly to get it. Of all the sorcerers in the world, he had trusted her to keep the ring safe, but how Danns had acquired it hardly mattered now. The Ring of Dispel would undo _any_ enchantment…including those with which he had shielded the one thing he could not afford to let the Black Fairy get.

The dagger was _gone._

“Grandpa?” Henry asked for a third time, now sounding very worried. “Are you all right?”

Dragging himself to the present, Rumplestiltskin sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now; he would just have to face the consequences as they came. “Yes, Henry,” he said quietly. “I am fine.”

“What happened? I felt…something.”

It made sense that Henry could feel the attack on the Dark Castle; several layers of the protections on Rumplestiltskin’s home were made of blood magic, and Henry was most assuredly of his bloodline and had significantly more magical potential than either of his birth parents were comfortable with. But when Aladdin spoke, Rumplestiltskin’s head snapped up in surprise.

“I feel it, too. Close. Fae magic?” Henry’s friend said suddenly, and Rumplestiltskin’s head whipped around.

“There’s no way you should be able to feel—”

Then the siren song of power, close by and deadly, whispered its way into Rumplestiltskin’s consciousness. He’d been too focused on the Dark Castle, looking too far into the distance, to notice the telltale signs, but now he felt everything. There was no time to explain. No time to do anything save throw a shield up around himself, Henry, and Aladdin and hope for the—

“What’s happening?” Henry asked as Rumplestiltskin reached for his grandson’s shoulder. Magic keyed on proximity, particularly shields, and the closer Henry was to him, the safer he would be. Power was already beginning to shake the rafters above them, dust falling down and making both teens cough. Aladdin yelped as something rattled down and hit him, because Rumplestiltskin’s hastily thrown up defenses were concentrating on the sudden storm of fae magic around them, not mundane like the pieces of the castle falling.

He was not ready for this. Even three days after his battle with Danns, his magic was still stretched too thin and he was too _tired_ for this!

“Stay close,” he told Henry, desperation making his voice rough.

“They’re trying to bring the castle down around us!” Aladdin realized, his eyes wide and terrified.

His hand on Henry’s shoulder was trying to shake—was that from exhaustion, or from something else? No matter. Quickly, with fingers that wanted to fumble, Rumplestiltskin fastened the bracelet around Henry’s wrist. It would keep him safe even if his grandfather failed. Rumplestiltskin was not ready for this, was not able to—

He knew what she was doing, knew what this was. Rumplestiltskin could not stop her at the Dark Castle, but he could stop the fae here. This was not Danns, and he was no mere sorcerer. So, Rumplestiltskin dug deeply into the vastness of the power he had inherited, forcing power outwards to protect Snow and Charming’s castle, his family and friends, and even the Grand Council itself. He was no hero, but today he would defend them all because Danns wanted them dead just so she could make a statement.

“Not if I can help it,” he answered Aladdin in a growl, his voice low and power leaping to his hands.

 

****************

 

Fifty-some odd people had gone out with Queen Leah’s hunting party. Fifteen returned, and they were only alive because they’d been lucky, Philip told Belle in a shattered voice.

“My father is dead,” he said raggedly, looking like death warmed over himself. “He jumped in front of a curse meant for Aurora, but—”

His voice broke, and she squeezed his arm gently, wishing she knew what to do for him. Baelfire had run into the castle to find Snow’s chamberlain, yelling for water, blankets, and help for the worn-out group. Servants rushed out even as Belle tried to piece together what had happened, but all fifteen survivors looked more stunned than anything else. Only Philip seemed able to show any emotion at all, and even he seemed so utterly drained that he wasn’t sure how to express himself. But his eyes were red and puffy, as if he had been sobbing his soul out until he’d run out of tears, and Belle suddenly realized what had to be wrong.

Aurora was nowhere in sight.

She knew what kind of heartbreak caused the dead look on Philip’s face. She had seen it before, and remembered feeling the echoes of that horrible pain, that roaring emptiness, when she thought Rumplestiltskin was dead. Even worse, Belle knew there was absolutely nothing in the world anyone could do to make things better for poor Philip. His True Love was dead. Nothing would change that. His friends could only be there for him and help him weather the storm, all the while knowing that only time could dull the pain.

“Oh, Philip,” she whispered, hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry.”

One short attack had made Philip into a king, a widower, and a single father for the one year old son Aurora had given birth to shortly after they all returned to the Enchanted Forest, and Belle could feel that he was still reeling from the blow.   But he returned her embrace for a short moment before pulling back, taking a shaky breath, and continuing doggedly:

“The fae that led the attack said that it was a warning. That anyone who resists the power of the fae will be destroyed.” Philip turned a glare on his mother-in-law, his brown eyes blazing fiercely. “And particularly those who ally with the Blue Fairy.”

Queen Leah looked nearly as shell-shocked as Philip did, but her chin came up anyway, and she spoke proudly: “I have merely done what I believe is best for our people, and—”

“Shut up,” Philip cut her off harshly. “Your daughter _died_ because of your choices. I’ll ally myself and my people with you no longer.”

“Our kingdoms—” Leah started to object, only to have Philip interrupt again.

“Aurora’s son, _my son,_ is the heir to your kingdom,” he snapped. “And I won’t have you as his regent, either. I’m done with you. We’ll fight with the rest of humanity, because if I’m going to sacrifice people in battle, it will damn well be for a cause I believe in.”

Belle had never seen Queen Leah so utterly speechless, nor Philip so angry. The exchange took her breath away, but she stepped forward to try to mediate, anyway. Now was not the time to let philosophical differences, no matter how major, divide them. If this attack was anything to go by, the war was only going to grow more brutal, and humanity _had_ to stand together if they were going to survive at all. Her hand still on Philip’s arm, Belle spoke urgently but levelly:

“Look, we all have the same enemies,” she told the feuding pair. “And those who were killed today were killed by the fae. If we do not stand together—”

The ground beneath her feet shook, and Belle cut off, her head snapping around to look in the direction from which the sound came. But the loud rumbling was coming from _overhead_ , and Belle’s neck cracked hard as she snapped her eyes to the sky. The clouds overhead were growing darker and darker, purple in color and swirling together like a very shallow tornado. Within less than a second, the sun was blotted out and it was almost as dark as night, but a very dangerous night, full of terrors and death. Lightning flashed against the sudden darkness, but that was no weather phenomenon—that was _power,_ magic, reaching out to crush Snow and Charming’s castle as winds rose to a fever pitch, howling around them and whipping at Belle’s dress so hard that she was almost torn off her feet.

“Find cover!” she shouted to those around her. The sudden influx of magic had startled the survivors out of their lethargy and straight into panic, and now people were screaming and rushing about in terror. “Stay away from the castle!”

“Belle!” Bae’s voice shouted, and suddenly his hand was on her arm. He must have just gotten back from fetching people to help the survivors, and for a moment Belle was pathetically grateful that Rumplestiltskin’s son was not inside the castle. The castle was the target.

“We have to get to safety!” she shouted when he, showing uncharacteristic hesitation, did not move.

“Henry and Pop are inside!”

_Oh, no._

But there was no way they’d make it inside and find them; Belle knew that. And so did Bae, which was why he looked so torn. The wind was blowing so hard that they would never make it to the castle no matter how fast they ran, and the clouds were pushing downwards aggressively, almost on top of the castle, already. Thunder continued to rumble ominously, and the ground began to shake harder. Losing her balance, Belle fell into Baelfire, who barely managed to catch her without falling himself. It felt like the world was going to shake itself to pieces while they watched.

“Rumple will get Henry out!” She had to bellow to be heard over the still-rising winds, yelling as loud as she could. “We have to get somewhere safe!”

“And where the hell is that?” Bae countered.

The sky fell.

Bae reacted faster than Belle did, throwing himself to the ground and dragging her down with him. She yelped in surprise as the ground rushed up to meet her, landing hard enough to knock the wind out of her, but even then Belle knew that it didn’t matter. The clouds were crashing down and an alarming rate, the rumbling having become a full-blown _crash_ as lighting sought out any structure or person higher than the ground. There were at least a hundred people outside the castle, now, between their search party, the survivors, and those who had come out to help, but none of them could possibly survive the force rushing down to meet them. Belle knew the castle wouldn’t survive, either; not that much power, not like this.

Then it stopped.

Breathing hard, Belle twisted to stare up at the sky and saw Bae do the same. The clouds hovered over them, over everyone, about twenty feet off the ground and still broiling madly—until a giant flash of light, gold and white, roared out from the castle, piercing the twisting clouds with an earsplitting _crack_. Immediately, the clouds broke apart and sunlight streamed back down on the sea of people strewn over the ground outside Snow and Charming’s castle. Then the whirlwind seemed to happen in reverse, with a great wind sucking the dark purple clouds of magic away until the afternoon returned to normal. The castle was still standing, and aside from the fact that most everyone was lying on the ground, it hardly seemed like any time had passed at all.

Blinking, Belle turned to Bae with wide eyes. “Did that just happen?”

“That had to be Pop,” Rumplestiltskin’s son replied shakily. “Right?”

“I can’t think of anyone else that might have done that,” Belle said, picking herself up. The danger had passed, and there was work to be done. But only one of them needed to do it, so she squared her shoulders and looked at her future stepson. “Go check on Henry,” she told him. “Make sure they’re both okay. For both of us.”

“You got it.” He squeezed her shoulder briefly, and then was gone.

 

****************

 

The shaking stopped suddenly, and Henry could feel power wrapping around the castle. If he squinted just right, he could see the threads of magic sweeping outwards from his grandfather’s hands, reinforcing the castle and pushing back the darkness that sought to destroy them all. Aladdin was staring at Rumplestiltskin with wide and shocked eyes, but Henry wasn’t surprised. This particular grandfather might claim not to be a hero, but he was always there when his family needed him.

Slowly, light began streaming in the windows once more. The world had gone dark so suddenly, with threatening storm clouds illuminated only by vicious bolts of lightning. Even Henry’s habitual confidence had been a little bit shaken by the unexpected attack; Rumplestiltskin had seemed so distracted when it started that Henry had almost worried that he wouldn’t be able to stop it. But Henry had known he would come through.

“You okay, Grandpa?” he asked when the heavy feeling of magic in the air eased.

“Of course I am. Are you?”

Why did adults always ask that? “Yup.” He grinned and figured it was worth a try to say: “But I’ll be even better if you want to teach me what you just did.”

“When you’re older, Henry,” was the laughing response—not like Henry had expected anything else, even if the adults’ paranoia got really annoying. “And then you get to talk to your parents first. All three of them.”

“But I want you to teach me like you’re teaching Dad.”

The smile that touched Rumplestiltskin’s face was one of the small ones, but Henry had known his grandfather a long time. He knew that the laughing smiles were often mocking ones, and if not that, they still hid a myriad of things. But the small smiles were the real ones. They were sometimes hesitant, often crooked, but they were very real.

“Perhaps,” Rumplestiltskin said softly, but Henry was pretty sure that meant he was going to win. Before he could decide if he should press his advantage or not, however, his father burst through the door.

“You guys okay?” Baelfire demanded, and Henry couldn’t help exchanging a look at his grandfather, which made them both laugh. That, of course, made his dad scowl. “What? It felt like the end of the world out there.”

_It felt like the castle was going to drop out from under us in here,_ Henry thought, but was smart enough not to say it.

“We’re fine, Bae,” Rumplestiltskin replied. “The threat should have passed. Here, anyway.”

Henry wanted to ask what he meant, but there turned out to be no time. Instead, he found himself helping care for the survivors still milling about in the courtyard. By the time Henry thought to ask Grandpa Gold what _else_ had happened—because whatever it was, it had probably been responsible for Rumplestiltskin’s earlier distraction—they’d been overcome by other events.

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think the fallout of this attack will be? What do you think the Black Fairy will do now that she has the dagger again? And what does the Black Fairy have in mind for Maleficent?
> 
> Stay tuned for Chapter 58: "Safe Conduct", where Belle and Rumplestiltskin return to the Dark Castle, the fae execute another attack, and Danns starts sending out mysterious invitations.


	59. Safe Conduct

**_Chapter Fifty-Eight—“Safe Conduct”_ **

 

People were frightened, and frightened people often did foolish things.  Or they lashed out, even at those who were closest to them.  Fear was a powerful force that often overcame even the innate goodness in those who _were_ better than their actions on days like these would suggest.  Snow couldn’t blame them for that.  After all, she had had a few dark moments in her own life, moments where fear drove her to do things she regretted.  She tried to learn from those moments and to be better, but she could not blame others who had not yet been able to learn those lessons.

Still, at the moment, she wished it would make them _shout_ less.  Baby Graham had quite a set of lungs on him, but compared to the pandemonium being created by the nobles and royals who thought themselves key members of the Grand Alliance, he was downright quiet and meek.  Even his worst moments hadn’t been this loud, and Snow couldn’t begin to make sense out of the shouting, finger pointing, and outright terror currently filling the largest ballroom in her castle.  It probably didn’t help that there weren’t enough chairs for everyone; in her experience, lackluster accommodations always put people on edge. Royals and nobles were used to being treated with a certain amount of deference, and not being able to sit down for a meeting only made them testy.

Of course, that couldn’t be helped. The great hall had taken a bit of a beating during Rumplestiltskin’s fight with the Black Fairy; one of its walls had caved in and buried a lot of chairs and other luxury items with it.  Emma and Regina had managed to repair most of the hall—and Snow thought that even Baelfire had helped there—but she’d still moved this impromptu meeting into the ballroom to avoid the remnants of the destruction.   After all, she hadn’t expected to hold a meeting today since they weren’t scheduled to do so at all for another two days.  But the attack on Leah’s hunting party had changed things, particularly since one of the smaller hunting parties had nearly had the same experience, only to escape by the skin of their teeth and the quick thinking of Jafar—who had been, for some reason, invited along by Midas’ youngest daughter.  _I don’t think I want to know about that one._ Tinker Bell had also been along on that hunt, and between the two of them, they’d gotten everyone to safety.

Still, the suddenness of the attacks had left everyone reeling, particularly since the fae had then been so audacious to attempt to flatten Snow and Charming’s own castle, an attack that Rumplestiltskin had fortunately stopped.  The Sugar Plum Fairy had gathered several of her sisters to help fix the damage that attack had done, too, and Snow _thought_ everything was over…but even she felt the whispers of terror gathering in the pit of her stomach.  Listening to everyone else demonstrate their fear wasn’t particularly growing her confidence, either.

Snow squared her shoulders and stepped forward, anyway.  She and Charming had been the leaders of the Grand Alliance from the beginning, and Snow would not shirk those responsibilities now.

“Everyone, please, calm down,” she started in her most authoritative voice.  Soothing though she might prefer to be, no one got anywhere by trying to soothe Queen Leah, and Leah was in full form now that she’d gotten over being thoroughly snubbed by Philip.  “I know that much has happened in the last few hours, but shouting at one another will get us nowhere.”

“Says the queen whose hunting party escaped completely unscathed,” the former King George snapped, and Snow resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  “Perhaps we ought to worry about what _other_ unholy alliances you and your husband have made.  Perhaps you’re not limiting yourselves to just the former Dark One.”

“You’re one to talk,” Charming cut in forcefully, and for once, Snow couldn’t blame him for his lack of tact.  “And stick to the facts, will you?  You might have noticed that our castle was almost flattened in an attack just this morning.”

George scowled, but King Midas got in before he could argue further.  “Queen Snow is right.  These attacks are clearly meant to divide us, and I, for one, will not give the Black Fairy the satisfaction of seeing me turn on my allies simply because her fae have committed atrocities.  Please tell me that I am not the only one in the room that understands that the fae are making war against _humanity_.  Last I checked, that applies to everyone in this room.”

Heads nodded, but predictably, it as Queen Leah who took Midas’ argument to extremes:

“Yes,” she snapped.  “They are attacking us _humans_ , but no one is asking themselves why.  And that answer, my lords and ladies, is far simpler than you want to accept.  Those vile sorcerers some of you are so foolish to call _friends_ have unsettled the balance.  They must be exterminated, and failing that, confined—”

“Are you _really_ going to go down that road again?” Emma demanded before anyone else could speak up.  “Locking up the people who are going to protect you _isn’t_ going to earn you any friends—and if you think that the Blue Fairy’s going to stick her neck out for you with the rest of us gone, you’ve got another thing coming.”  Snow’s daughter snorted and rolled her eyes.  “And I’d like to see you try to lock us up.  Or _exterminate_ us like irksome rapid animals.”

“So would I,” Regina spoke up.  Snow hadn’t even known when her stepmother had arrived; she’d been helping bring back the bodies from the attack on Leah’s hunting party, and must have slipped in when Snow wasn’t looking.

“Going to war against our own kind is not the answer,” Snow said forcefully before Regina could say something that would set Leah off.   “Blue has already promised to help humanity against the fae.  I know that weathering such attacks is hard, but if we remain strong, we _will_ win.  Any talk of extermination or imprisonment will not be tolerated at this council.”

“And if I demand a vote on the issue?” Leah looked Snow straight in the eye, and Snow could feel hatred radiating from the older woman.

“You’re going to want to read this first,” Philip interjected.  Like Regina, he’d arrived late, and Aurora’s widower really did look like hell.  Snow wanted to reach out and hug him, but Philip was looking steadily at his mother in law, holding a folded piece of paper out to her.  His expression was unreadable; there was something lurking underneath the howling grief Snow could feel radiating off of him, but Snow couldn’t tell what.

Leah glared at Philip, but took the note anyway, and Snow watched her face grow ashen as she read it.  Philip explained to the Council:

“The ancestral summer palace in my late wife’s kingdom has been destroyed by an attack by the fae.  Everyone inside has perished.”

A cold wind whipping around the room could not have made more people shiver.  Snow knew that King Stefan’s largest castle was still being rebuilt after the battle there almost a year earlier, but the summer palace in that kingdom had been widely known as the oldest and most beautiful castle in the entire Enchanted Forest.  It was the castle where Stefan had married Leah, where Aurora had been felled by a sleeping curse, and then the castle where Philip and Aurora had eventually married as well.  That was also where Philip and Aurora had been ruling their combined kingdoms from…and where Philip would have left his young son had Aurora not insisted on bringing the child along. 

“There’s naught but rubble left,” Philip finished tonelessly.  “The only survivor was chosen by the fae to bring that message here.”

“What does it say?” Snow had to ask, much though she wished she could just let Philip grieve. 

But it was Leah who replied, her tone sharp and furious.  “It says that those who ally with the fairies will be punished.”

As one, almost everyone in the room turned to stare at the fairies that were present, led by Tink and the Sugar Plum Fairy.  Tink stared back with wide eyes as the hostility in the room grew strong enough to taste, and Snow groped frantically for words to set the others at ease.  Leah had tried to turn them against magic users in their fear, but what if they turned on the fairies instead?  Oh, Snow had little love left for Blue these days, but Tink and the others who followed her were trying to help, and they _needed_ that help.  Surely the others could see that!  These people were supposed to be the wisest and the strongest in the Enchanted Forest…and fear made people do foolish things.

“Rubbish,” a new voice interjected, and heads snapped around to stare at the man in the room who loved fairies the least.  Rumplestiltskin shrugged as if he’d not threatened to kill the Blue Fairy just a few days earlier.  “Don’t let Danns' a'Bhàis manipulate you all as if you were puppets on her strings.  She’s _playing_ the lot of you.”

“What do you mean?” Thankfully, it was Princess Abigail who spoke up and not someone more antagonistic.

“I mean that history has proven one thing.  Neither the Black Fairy nor the Blue Fairy can gain complete ascendance over the other without an external power to prop them up.  Nor can humanity hope to defeat either one without the other.  Danns will divide us if she can, and keep humanity from allying with the fairies if she cannot, because she can’t take both sides on at once.  Divide and conquer.”  Rumplestiltskin gestured airily.  “A tried and true method for defeating your enemies.  Let them defeat themselves while you watch.”

“We’re not—” Leah started to interject hotly, but Rumplestiltskin laughed at her.

“Aren’t you, dearie?”

No, Snow’s fellow grandparent wasn’t good at making friends, but he was good at throwing a bucket of ice water on people frightened into being fools.  Snow supposed she should be grateful for that, because at least Rumplestiltskin shut his mouth when he was done and let her start knitting things back together again.  The next few hours of the meeting were anything but enjoyable; it took all of Snow’s diplomatic prowess to bring even a slender majority around to the thought that a united front really _was_ what they needed.  Locking human magic users up to placate the fairies was off the table.  A genocidal war against the fae was as impractical as it was wrong.  Only by being strong and by working together—and with those fairies that would work with them—could they hope to survive the darkness that always came before the dawn.

She had some unexpected help on that front.  Slowly, one sorcerer after another stepped forward to volunteer help, even those who had kept to the shadows during the last few centuries, and even some who had managed to sidestep Regina’s curse and remain in the Enchanted Forest.  They spoke of weaving protective spells on places that humans could find shelter in _every_ kingdom, and ever so slowly, a plan to defend themselves against the fae started to come together.

 

****************

 

Being teleported always made Belle’s stomach twist a little uneasily, but today seemed to hit her worse than it had in months.  Or perhaps that was just a side effect of looking at the destruction in front of her; it was certainly enough to make her queasy.  Her hand held tight in Rumplestiltskin’s, Belle could only stare at the Dark Castle as they appeared in the courtyard of their home.

She could feel the tension in her beloved, too, could sense the fury whipping through him like a wildfire.  The Black Fairy had attacked _their_ castle while he was not present to defend it, and Belle knew there were few things that could anger Rumplestiltskin so badly as an enemy attempting to destroy his home or take his things.  He had a good hold on his temper, though.  For the moment.  His knuckles might have been white where he gripped her hand tightly, and his shoulders might have been so stiff that he could have been made of stone, but no magical explosion was forthcoming.

But Belle couldn’t blame Rumplestiltskin for his anger.  Although the Dark Castle was still standing and even mostly intact, it looked like a giant hand had reached down from the sky and drilled into the castle’s very foundations.  A large piece of the slate roof lay on the ground inside the courtyard, almost broken in half by the impact but not quite.  Stones from the front face of the castle lay strewn about everywhere, singed and shattered as if that giant hand had been made of molten fire.  A little smoke even wafted out of the hole, and Belle could smell burnt cloth and wood as they picked their way over the rubble.  She tripped twice, only to be caught by Rumplestiltskin.  He smiled tightly, but neither spoke; they were still too shocked.

Instinctively, Belle kept hold of Rumple’s hand.  There was no knowing what stray magic was lying around amidst the destruction…but even Belle could feel that something about the entire castle was _off_.

Slowly, they stepped through the main doors, both glancing up at the hole in the wall above them before doing so.  But the giant wooden doors did still open at a wave of Rumplestiltskin’s left hand, not even creaking in protest.  Still silent, they made their way through the entrance hall, which was strangely intact.  Given the destruction outside, Belle would have expected the entryway to be trashed, but it looked just as it had when they left, at least if one could ignore the smell coming from further in the castle.  _Perhaps things aren’t as bad as they look_ , Belle tried to tell herself, but Rumple’s tension screamed a different story.

Then the doors to the great hall opened, and Belle’s optimism vanished.

Here was the devastation she had expected.  The long wooden table was overturned, and two chairs were broken in half.  Her favorite chaise had a hole burned in it, and the two display pedestals on the front left side of the hall were absolutely melted.  Several tapestries were singed and one was half roasted away; next to that one was a pair of shattered windows and a painting that had liquefied inside its frame.  One cabinet of knickknacks or precious magical artifacts (Belle had never been able to tell the difference) had been upended and looked broken, too.  She could see Rumplestiltskin’s eyes sweeping over his collection of belongings, cataloging what else might be missing and deciding what needed to be fixed first, but his pinched expression had nothing to do with the collection he’d amassed over so many centuries.

In truth, Belle wasn’t even sure if the smoking crater in the floor was what angered him so much, or if it was the fact that they both knew where that crater led.  Slowly, they stepped up to the edge together, still holding onto one another tightly.  Belle had never seen the inside of Rumple’s private vault before, but she did now; the crater was actually a tunnel, a gaping hole that led all the way down into the most secure place in the entire castle, the one place Rumplestiltskin had known the Dark One’s dagger would be safe.

“Well,” her love said slowly.  “I expected it to be worse, actually.”

“You expected _worse_?” Belle echoed incredulously, glancing up to stare at Rumplestiltskin before looking back down into the abyss.  She could see neat cabinets and sealed chests, all carefully organized and warded against intrusion.  But she couldn’t see the one box they both knew had been the Black Fairy’s target, and Belle felt a sinking feeling press down upon her.  She had been so confident that using Circe’s bones to shield the dagger would work, but all that had done in the end was give the Black Fairy an excuse to rip a hole in their home.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged, distracting Belle from blaming herself.  “With the power she used, she could have done much more damage.”

“Like Leah’s castle,” Belle knew.  The fae had destroyed that outright and destroyed everyone inside.  They had tried to do the same with Snow and David’s castle, too.  At least the Dark Castle was still _standing_.  The Black Fairy must have focused all of her power on freeing the dagger.

“Yes.”

“Can you fix it?” Belle asked quietly, knowing that Rumplestiltskin would never admit what the Dark Castle meant to him, probably not even to her.  He wasn’t one for acknowledging more than a superficial attachment to anything, but the castle was home.

“I can and I shall,” Rumplestiltskin replied, his voice still tense despite what Belle could tell was a studious attempt to sound like he hardly cared.  Belle squeezed his hand.

“Now?”  She knew that frown.

That finally earned her a crooked smile.  “You know me too well, sweetheart,” her fiancé replied.  “Though do think I’ll be reworking the wards just a little while I’m at it.”

“How?” she wondered curiously.

“The Janus Stone.”  There it was, the distant look in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes that told Belle he was already working magic.  “If Danns can use a secondary power to break through, I can use one to prevent her from doing it again.”

Belle wasn’t sure how comfortable she was with Rumple’s now habitual use of the Black Fairy’s first name, but oddity that could be discussed another day.  Right now, they had many more important concerns.  She sighed heavily, knowing what mattered more to Rumplestiltskin than the castle.  “But that won’t get the dagger back.”

“No.”  His face darkened.

“What will you do?”

“Rebuild the castle.”  Anger danced in his eyes alongside grim purpose. “And then I will deal with the Black Fairy.”

Reconstituting the shattered ashes of the Dark Castle took far less time than Belle would have expected.  Rumple was even willing to chat with her as his magic went to work, although he wouldn’t let her go check on her library until he was certain that the castle was structurally sound.  She did head up there, however, the moment Rumplestiltskin let her.  Meanwhile, he began meticulously rebuilding his broken wards, a task that occupied his entire attention and Belle could do nothing to help with.  She understood magic in a theoretical sense better than most sorcerers, but she’d never had much aptitude for it.  Oh, she supposed that she’d ask Rumple to teach her a small spell or two one of these days—Belle did love learning, and she knew that anyone could do minor magic—but she was content to let him handle the power.

So, she spent a few pleasant hours reading while he worked on the wards, but even Belle could feel the slight vibration in the walls as Rumplestiltskin amplified his magic through the Janus Stone, linking that ancient power to the Dark Castle and then burying it deep within the castle’s foundations.  It made for a strange taste in the air, that connection, one that made the Dark Castle feel more magical and strange than it had even to Belle when she’d first come there.  Back before she’d been used to the castle’s interesting aura, Belle had found it rather creepy.  Later, that very feeling had become comforting, so she supposed she’d grow used to the changed ambiance.  The difference was minor enough that by the time Belle opened her third book, she’d all but forgotten about it.

Belle was deep in the fifth book by the time Rumplestiltskin found her in the library, and by then she was researching other ways to break the Dark One’s dagger out of the Black Fairy’s control.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked, but if Rumplestiltskin hadn’t dropped a kiss on the top of her head, Belle might not have heard him at all.

“Hmm?” she muttered, and then shook herself, looking up from _Magical Artifacts from Before Time_ with a warm smile.  “A few things.  Can we bring these books back with us?”

“Of course—” Then Rumplestiltskin seemed to notice how very many books were in the stack she was indicating.  “You mean _all_ of them?”

Belle threw him an innocently pleading look. “Well, it won’t do me much good if I forget the one I wind up needing.” 

“One of these days, I’m just going to make you a portal to the library,” he groused, but Belle could see that Rumple wasn’t really angry.  Or not at her, anyway.  Plenty of fury still lurked beneath the surface.

“Can you do that?” Belle couldn’t help it if her voice was eager.  It would be so _useful_ if she could get back to the Dark Castle’s library at any time!  Regina’s library was all but useless—Belle had read everything in it years ago—and neither Snow or Charming was much of a reader. She didn’t mind spending time with the rest of the family, really, but she missed her library.

“I don’t see why—oh, hello, dearie.  Where did _you_ come from?”

A raven, so black and shiny that it was almost purple, had landed on the windowsill near Belle, and she twisted to look at it as Rumplestiltskin cut off whatever he was going to say.  She’d opened the windows earlier to air the smoky smell out of the library (it was horrible for the books), but now an unexpected visitor had taken advantage of that.  The bird was staring at Rumplestiltskin like it knew who he was, and it held a folded piece of parchment loosely in its left claw.  Rumplestiltskin, of course, immediately stepped forward to retrieve the message.  Belle unfolded from her chair to stand next to him, reading over his shoulder.  At first, she’d feared that it was word of danger from Snow, who had been known to send messages with birds, but Belle didn’t recognize the handwriting.

The hand that had written the note was heavy, and the script terribly old fashioned.  But the words were simple:

_You are invited, under a flag of truce, to the Vault of the Dark One.  Bring that beauty you are so in love with.  She will want to see this as well._

_\- Danns._

 

 

****************

 

They were not the only ones who received a note like that.   The Black Fairy invited her most implacable enemies to the Vault of the Dark One, magic users and political leaders both.  Tink’s message was the most simple:

_Come to the Vault of the Dark One, cousin, and come in peace._

Emma’s was more complicated, ending with:

_Bring your husband and your boy.  Today the Truest Believer is in no danger from me or mine._

Snow and David received one, too, but that hardly mattered since they had been with Regina when she read her own note.  Robin refused to let Regina leave without him to watch her back, so she brought her lover and the Charmings with her, following the slight magical trail on the note designed to lead them all straight to the Vault of the Dark One.  After all, neither Regina nor Emma had ever been there before, and truth be told, even Rumplestiltskin wasn’t exactly sure where the Vault was located.  Danns had known that, and she provided a harmless way to direct those she invited.

The trap, of course, was not in the magical pull they followed, and was not designed to be sprung before anyone arrived.  Danns meant most of them no harm; she truly did desire an audience for that magic which she intended to perform.  She even invited her sister, knowing that the Blue Fairy would not be able to stop her in time, no matter how hard she tried.  After all, the path all but one of her invitees followed was designed to take precious seconds longer than necessary…and those who arrived early had no way to stop her.

Regina’s note had provided no guarantee of safe conduct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Chapter Fifty-Nine: “A Life for a Life”, where Maleficent faces the consequences of her choices, Regina makes an unexpected request, and Zoso returns.


	60. A Life for a Life

**_Chapter Fifty-Nine—“A Life for a Life”_ **

 

By the time Rumplestiltskin and Belle arrived, Danns had already won.

“Do it!” the Queen of all Fae ordered, standing behind Regina with the Dark One’s dagger held tightly against Regina’s throat.  The Evil Queen had clearly been caught by surprise; her eyes were wide and shocked enough to overcome even her typical fury. 

Snow, David, and Robin stood two dozen or so feet away from that pair, not far from where Rumplestiltskin and Belle had appeared.  Although Robin pointed his bow threateningly at the Black Fairy, arrow notched and ready, Danns seemed not to care.  Snow and David both had swords in hand, but this was not a battle they could fight, let alone win. 

“Maleficent—” Regina started.

“Do it now or she dies,” Danns cut her off, hazel eyes fierce and just a little wild.

Useless magic leapt to Rumplestiltskin’s hands even as he turned to look at Maleficent.  The dagger was the one weapon he had no chance of taking away from Danns, and the Black Fairy had laid her other protective spells well.  He could not rescue Regina without killing her, and there was not time to unravel the traps Danns had waiting.  _Damn her for delaying us_!  Of course Rumplestiltskin knew now what his enemy had done.  He’d walked neatly into a trap, they all had, and Maleficent’s purple eyes were full of that same knowledge.  The fallen fairy’s face was tight with grief and she spoke softly:

“I’m sorry, Regina.”

Too late, Rumplestiltskin realized where Maleficent was standing.  Too late, he recognized the intricately carved disk upon which she now crouched, inserting a triangle shaped key and turning it sharply.  Danns had planned well, putting the entry to the Vault between her enemies and where she stood still threatening Regina.  Had he arrived a few seconds earlier, Rumplestiltskin might have been able to stop Maleficent, but he hadn’t, so now he could only watch helplessly.  Gears moved, power awakened, and the process began.  There was nothing he could do, but he still took a step forward, his eyes flashing to Danns as she smiled in triumph.  Yes, this was what she wanted, damn the cost.  She still held Regina tightly, and they looked back at Maleficent together.

Maleficent did not scream; she was too stubborn for that, and she obviously knew what was coming.  But Rumplestiltskin could smell the flesh on her palm burning, and he could feel the magical transaction happening.  _A life for a life._ He had not known exactly what it would take to resurrect a Dark One, but now as he watched the process, he understood with devastating clarity.  Maleficent stumbled clear of the Vault even as oozing black darkness began rushing up to cover the disk-shaped entryway, bubbling and ominous.

He could feel the heat radiating off of the ooze from a dozen feet away, could sense the heavy and oppressive presence of pure evil.  Pure darkness.  How had he lived with that inside him for so long?  Having been free of the curse for almost two years, Rumplestiltskin could now see what it was he had lived with for so many centuries.  How _had_ he managed to keep a small shred of his soul intact despite that darkness?  He didn’t know, but his time at the Vault with Danns had taught Rumplestiltskin a few things, including how very strong his former curse was here in this place.

His _former_ curse.

It now belonged to another.  The dregs of it would always be with him, would always stain his soul, but Rumplestiltskin was truly free.  The ooze slowly became man-shaped, and a hunched over figure rose from the disk.  The ooze dripped away, drop by drop, revealing a face that Rumplestiltskin had seen only once, almost three centuries previously.  Then Zoso had been laughing, victorious and gloating.  Now he looked confused, but either way, his was not a face Rumplestiltskin had ever expected to see again, except in his nightmares.

Maleficent collapsed as Zoso shook himself free of the remnants of the dark ooze, clad in ornate black robes that seemed to match the carvings on the Vault.  The former—now current—Dark One looked around curiously, fury etched into his features until he caught sight of the many people watching him.  Then a predatory smile curled into his lips, and Rumplestiltskin could just _feel_ Zoso counting the ways in which he could make others suffer to pay for the many hellish years he had spent inside the Vault.  The curse would demand it, would demand blood and terror and pain in payment for Zoso’s own suffering…and Zoso was the type of man who would embrace that wholeheartedly.  There was nothing that would make him hesitate, Rumplestiltskin knew.  Nothing at all.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Danns said dismissively, making Rumplestiltskin’s gaze finally snap away from Zoso.  The Black Fairy shoved Regina away contemptuously, and although Regina did pause to throw the fae a dirty look, she didn’t bother to comment. 

Instead, she quickly made her way to Maleficent’s side, crouching by her old friend as Maleficent shook and struggled for air.  Rumplestiltskin did not need to be a sorcerer to tell that the fallen fairy only had moments to live.  What Zoso gained in strength, Maleficent lost, and Maleficent was fading fast.

“And yours,” Danns continued, looking at Maleficent moments before she breathed her last.  “It turns out that your little deception was useful after all.  I suppose I should be grateful that I let it continue for so long.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Regina swore in a snarl.  Maleficent, for her part, only squeezed her friend’s hand and let her eyes slide shut, and even from twenty feet away, her last breath was audible.

Danns just laughed.

“Regina,” Rumplestiltskin said softly, gesturing for his former student to come towards them.  She was in no-man’s land now, closer to Zoso than anyone else, and between the others and Danns.  It was a bad place to be if the fight Rumplestiltskin expected erupted, and, well, perhaps he was growing soft enough not to want to see her hurt.  Not today, anyway.  After a moment, she met his gaze and nodded, letting go of Maleficent’s hand and rising out of her crouch.

But it was Zoso who turned towards the Evil Queen, his eyes suddenly alert and hungry.  “Regina,” he rumbled, rolling the name around as if to see how it tasted.  “A sorceress.”

“Who the hell are you?” Regina snapped.

“The Dark One,” Zoso replied, licking his lips eagerly.  Rumplestiltskin had heard stories of Zoso’s depravities when he had been young in the Frontlands, but now he saw the horror up close and felt even his stomach roll.  There had been lines even he had never crossed as the Dark One, but Zoso seemed to relish the idea of committing such atrocities.  “You will come with me,” Zoso told Regina, and no one doubted his intentions.

“Not today,” Danns interrupted before Regina could reply, gliding forward gracefully.

_“What?”_   Zoso twisted to face the Black Fairy, a sneer on his face.

“I did promise them safe conduct, after all,” Danns replied with a shrug.  “You’ll abide by that…Zoso.”

She held the dagger up with those words, clearly reading the name off the blade.  Zoso twitched, and Rumplestiltskin felt an answering shiver run down his spine, watching the cloud drift over his predecessor—now successor’s—expression and watching Danns’ control sink in.  Zoso was trapped and knew it; he could rage against Danns or he could submit quietly.  Frankly, Rumplestiltskin did not care which he chose, and he had no intention of sticking around to watch the game play out.

“Did you enjoy your little show, dearie?” he sneered at Danns, stepping forward and letting power fill him.  Hopefully, if it came down to it, Regina and Emma could hold off Zoso while he took care of Danns, but Rumplestiltskin wasn’t going to place any bets.  The Evil Queen and the Savior were powerful and decent at working with one another, but he had no idea how knowledgeable or even how old Zoso actually was. He was an absolute wildcard, and Rumplestiltskin did not leave his family’s safety to chance.  This was not the day to pick a fight.

“Quite,” she replied serenely.  “I did require something to tip the scales since you proved so uncooperative.”

“I’m so very sorry to have disappointed you,” he retorted, shrugging casually.  “Or, actually, no, I’m not.  In fact—”

“What _have_ you done, Danns?” a new voice interrupted him, sounding shocked and sad like only the Blue Fairy could.

And she was late, as usual.  Leave it to Ruel Ghrom to arrive after everything was said and done, and long after she could accomplish any good at all.  Her last-minute appearance was depressingly typical, and Rumplestiltskin could not keep from rolling his eyes.

“Impeccable timing as ever, dearie,” he snorted.

“Sister, I’m so glad you could join us,” Danns spoke up before Blue could reply, floating forward with a welcoming smile on her face.  “Although you missed all the fun.”

“What have you done?” Blue repeated, looking at her sister disapprovingly as she transitioned from tiny to human-sized.  “That curse embraced all of the darkness in creation!  Why have you brought it back to contaminate our world?”

“I’ve done what is necessary,” Danns retorted, still serene.  “As I always do.”

The two sisters faced one another, one expression horrified and the other gloating, while Rumplestiltskin felt rather like a referee at a particularly vicious sporting match, stuck in between them and unable to get out.  Oh, part of him loved the idea of letting the two fairies duke it out until something gave, but his own recent experience with that sort of battle taught him that it was their world that would suffer, not either of the two of _them._   Even if one managed to kill the other—and his money was on Danns if that happened—both filled irreplaceable roles in the Enchanted Forest.  The two chief fairies literally _were_ the embodiment of light and darkness: light and dark in their original forms, not good or evil like people wanted to think of them nowadays.  But someone would have to fill the role if either died, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be Rumplestiltskin.

If those two were light and dark, Rumplestiltskin—like Merlin before him—was somewhere in between.  Once, that would have been a laughable concept, but now he more or less accepted it, so long as he could think of himself as personifying something akin to original chaos.  But that _fit._   Humans were the most chaotic elements in the Enchanted Forest, the most prone to change and discovery.  The fairies, fae or not, were constant.  Humans were anything but.

“You cannot think this is necessary!” Blue snapped.  “When you created the curse of the Dark One, you at least removed an original power from play.  Had you put it back in _him_ ”—she gestured angrily at Rumplestiltskin—“I might have supported that.  But this?  Danns, you are trying to alter the very nature of magic itself!”

The Black Fairy scoffed.  “I am doing nothing of the sort.  The Dark One will serve me, as he is meant to do.  I am hardly going to let him off his leash.”

“You can’t—” Zoso started hotly, only to have the Black Fairy wave a hand at him.  His mouth snapped shut, driven by the unspoken command.  Zoso’s eyes blazed.

“Do stay out of conversations between your betters,” Danns told him archly.

Zoso snarled wordlessly, but it was clearly the best he could do.  Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, stepped forward, clearly interjecting himself into a conversation that he didn’t feel was between _his_ betters.  Part of him hated the idea of playing this part, but things were only going to get worse if he didn’t.  The balance of power was shifting enough as things were.  He could not allow the fairies to come to some sort of terms, particularly not when the one thing that was likely to unite them seemed to be removing Rumplestiltskin from play.

“Necessary or not, what she’s done is give herself nothing more than another unpredictable pet,” he told Blue.  “Oh, he’s more unconditionally loyal than the rest of the fae”—without his meaning them to, Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flicked to the dagger—“but hardly any different in that respect.  And, I gather that his power is rather more limited now, isn’t it?  Now he only has that elemental demon to draw upon.”

The last bit was directed at Danns, and she scowled.  “The Dark One’s power was _always_ supposed to be limited to that.”

“And for most Dark Ones, it was,” Blue added.

“Oops,” Rumplestiltskin smiled nastily.

Silence fell; the three original powers stared at one another while the Dark One prowled behind the Black Fairy, bristling with barely restrained fury.  The others, Rumplestiltskin’s family and allies, watched from a slightly greater distance, but he knew they would not stay silent for long.  _Humans.  We’re ornery, unpredictable, and we love a good fight._   And if he wasn’t careful, this situation might quickly become that good fight, although which side Blue would take could be anyone’s guess.

Now he understood the power dynamic before Merlin’s supposed death.  The two original fairies could balance one another if the third original power did not choose a side; then Danns had trapped Merlin into serving her, which had led Ruel Ghorm into eventually trapping Danns.  The three of them could and should balance one another, but what happened if the two fairies decided to ally against _him_?  He couldn’t allow that to happen, even if he had to antagonize them both to do it.

“You have no right to that power,” Blue snapped before Rumplestiltskin could decide how to either defuse the situation or make it explode.

“Better me than either of you.  At least I’m human,” he replied with another twisted smile.

“That hardly matters.  You were _never_ meant to be anything other than the Dark One.  Humans do not require—”

“The ability to stand up for ourselves?” Rumplestiltskin cut her off.  “I hate to disappoint you, _dearie_ , but your perfect little world of fairy power is broken.  And you can blame your beloved sister for that one.  She’s the one who pulled Zoso here from the Vault and recreated the curse.”

Interestingly enough, those words did make Blue look back at Danns.  “You had two chances.  How did you fail _twice_?”

The magnitude of that question floored Rumplestiltskin, for he knew what the Blue Fairy meant.  The Black Fairy had tried—and failed—twice to force the curse of the Dark One back into him.  And now her sister was outright saying that she would have preferred that outcome to the current situation.  He’d known Blue hated him, but even Rumplestiltskin was surprised to hear it said so plainly.

“Actually, I’m rather satisfied with my handiwork,” Danns said contemplatively, glancing between the two of them and clearly relishing their animosity.  Oh, she wasn’t telling the complete truth; Rumplestiltskin knew she would have vastly preferred to re-chain Merlin’s power to herself via that curse.  But she was also very satisfied to see that her two enemies did not get along.

“How can you be?” Blue demanded.

Danns only laughed.  “Farewell, sister.  We will see one another again—although perhaps next time it will be _me_ with the Heart in my hand.”

The Black Fairy vanished in a swirl of silver smoke before Blue could respond, but not before Danns threw a significant smile Henry’s way.  Zoso disappeared with her, leaving Rumplestiltskin to face the brunt of the Blue Fairy’s wrath.

“This is your doing.”

“My doing?” Despite himself, Rumplestiltskin was rather surprised to hear her say that to his face.  “What gives you that idea?  I fought to keep that dagger, in case you weren’t paying attention.”

Blue rolled her eyes.  “If you had not broken your curse, we would not be in this position.”

“No, she’d likely have the dagger and I’d be putting my grandson’s heart in your chest,” he retorted with a sneer of his own, feeling his own temper rising.  “Tell me how that would help _anything_.”

“You would be controllable, and Merlin’s power would still be contained!”

A hand landed on Rumplestiltskin’s arm before he could respond hotly.  Much to his surprise, it was Bae and not Belle who put a cork in his anger.  His son had stepped up next to him along with the others, and it was Snow who spoke up for the group:

“No one can change the past, Blue,” the young queen said earnestly.  “You taught me that.  We can only move forward from here.  The Black Fairy is amassing power to take over the world.  Will you help us fight her?”

Blue stiffened, obviously not expecting the request from the princess who she had watched over for so long.  Of course, Blue had already promised that the fairies would do their part in combatting the fae, but she’d found her own loophole.  Instead of personally leading them, Blue had sent Tink and Sugar Plum to do so in her stead, keeping to the letter of her promise but offering no more.  Now Snow was asking her to truly help, to stand with those who were arrayed to fight back the rising powers of the Black Fairy…and Blue sniffed disgustedly.

“I cannot in good conscience ally myself with a man who tried to kill me,” she replied.

“After you put him under a sleeping curse,” Belle pointed out from Rumplestiltskin’s other side.

“I will always do what must be done,” Blue retorted, sounding suspiciously like her sister before she turned to glare at Rumplestiltskin.  “Do not think that power cannot be stripped from you.  It no longer belongs in this world.”

And then _she_ vanished, leaving the nine humans to stare at one another in shocked silence.  Finally, Regina spoke up.

“So.  There’s another Dark One now, huh?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed; nothing good would come of this.  “Indeed there is.”

 

****************

 

Sunset had long since passed by the time Regina finished burning Malefient’s body.  Robin had stayed with her, despite her protests, but she really was glad that he had.  Saying goodbye to her best friend was hard enough without having to do so alone, and doing it in the Forbidden Fortress had proved even more heartbreaking.  Regina didn’t know who would claim Maleficent’s castle now that the fallen fae was dead; Maleficent had lived there so long that even legends didn’t recall who had owned the fortress before her.  Regina supposed that she move there if she ever needed a bit of space away from her stepdaughter’s kingdom—Maleficent certainly wouldn’t mind—but right now, living in the same castle as Henry’s other mother had its perks. 

“The last time I was here, I was stealing gold,” Robin said quietly, stepping up to put an arm around her while Regina stared blankly at the urn she’d sealed Maleficent’s ashes in.

“She told me about that,” Regina said softly, feeling rather numb.  She’d already wept for her friend, so now what was she supposed to do?  She was good at holding grudges, but true, heartfelt grief was not something she had allowed herself to feel for a long time.  And guilt only compounded matters; Maleficent had died to save her life.

“I think I would have liked to know her better,” her lover replied. “I know she was a good friend to you.”

“The best.”  She gulped, and it sounded suspiciously like a sob.  Evil queens didn’t cry, but then, Regina wasn’t really the Evil Queen any more, was she?  She wasn’t always sure what she was, but Maleficent had been her best friend, and Regina _missed_ her.  She had known that Maleficent’s decision to go along to Tink and Rumplestiltskin’s insane plan and become a spy could be dangerous, but Regina had somehow never imagined that Maleficent might actually die in the process.  She was _Maleficent_.  Nothing had ever seemed able to kill her.

Robin just wrapped his arms around her, and Regina just let herself cry.  There was no way she would ever let anyone but Robin see her like this, because she was not the type to show weaknesses, thank you very much, but with him she could let go.  She didn’t know how long she sobbed for, only that she felt safe and whole in his arms, felt like she wasn’t alone.  Robin hadn’t had to know her friend to be there for Regina, and right now, he was the rock she need, the strength she did not have.  She had been able to burn her friend with steady hands, been able to place her ashes in a purple-stoned black urn that she knew Maleficent would like, but that was as far as Regina’s strength went.  Now she just needed someone to hold her.

Perhaps someday she would return to Maleficent’s castle, or maybe she would even name a daughter for her.  _Wouldn’t Maleficent find that funny?  The daughter of an outlaw who once robbed her might just carry her name._   Despite her grief, Regina found that the thought made her laugh softly, the giggles mixing in with her sobs as a smile wormed its way onto her face.

“What is it, love?” Robin asked softly.

“Marry me,” Regina said instead of answering his question, leaning back to look into his very shocked eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” her earl-turned-outlaw stuttered.

“Marry me,” Regina repeated, this time more forcefully.  Her tears would dry.  Maleficent would tell her to look towards the future, not the past, and Regina would damn well do so.  “Life is too short to be alone.”

Robin kissed her, hard, and Regina was pretty sure that meant _yes_.  The next several moments were spent finding the many different ways they could answer that question without words, reveling in their closeness and being determined not to look back.  Yes, they had both made many mistakes in their past.  They had both loved and lost and learned to love again.  This was their second chance, and neither was going to walk away from—

A cough made them break apart, magic flying to Regina’s hands by instinct alone.  _No one_ should have been able to make it through Maleficent’s still-standing wards, but there was a dark-haired woman staring at them.  No, there was a dark-haired _fae_ staring at them, holding her hands far away from her body in a conciliatory gesture of peace.  She didn’t seem to be working magic, either, but with a fae Regina knew it was always hard to tell.  They didn’t need wands to do spells, and every muscle in Regina’s body tensed for action.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded.  Snarled, more like.  Who was this fae to interrupt her admittedly very untraditional proposal?

“You are Regina, yes?” the fae asked instead of answering, and something in her broken expression that gave Regina pause when she was about to snap something hostile.

“I am,” she responded instead of shouting.  But she didn’t lower her own magical readiness, either.

“My name is Vidia,” was the soft answer, and Regina saw the fae glancing around the castle, looking a little lost.  “Maleficent was my…friend, also.  She told me about you.”

That made an eyebrow go up.  “Did she, now?”

“Yes,” Vidia replied, biting her lip before continuing: “I knew she was spying, and I understood why.  Our Lady…she will push things too far until there is no balance remaining.  I want to help.”

“Come again?” Regina blinked hard, unable to believe her ears.

“I want to help,” Vidia repeated.

“Wait a minute,” Robin interjected incredulously.  “Are you saying that you want to pick up where Maleficent left off? You want to spy on your _fellow fae_ for the Grand Alliance?”

“No.” Vidia met both their gazes squarely, her chin coming up proudly.  “I want to do it for Maleficent.  And for the sake of our world.”

Well.  If that wasn’t one of the craziest things Regina had ever heard, it at least gave the others some very stiff competition.  But she wasn’t one to let opportunity pass her by; Regina had long since learned to take control of any situation that even seemed to need it, so she did so here.  Soon enough, she had worked out way for Vidia to contact her—hopefully one that left her less open to discovery than it had Maleficent, but from what Vidia said, the Black Fairy had been watching Maleficent from the very beginning and just waiting to spring her trap.  But Vidia was clearly more trusted than Maleficent had ever been; she was one of the fae’s own, and Vidia seemed confident that no one would ever suspect her.

Perhaps, Maleficent had not died in vain, furious though Regina was by knowing that her friend had saved her life by sacrificing her own.  Perhaps she lived on, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful feedback on the last few chapters! It’s amazing to hear that so many readers are still with me as we approach the end of this wild ride. We’ve got three chapters and the epilogue left to go! In the meantime, what do you think Zoso will do in this new life of his, and will anyone manage to kill him? 
> 
> Next up is Chapter 60: “A Contract Broken,” in which Blue makes one final attempt to defeat her sister and puts Henry in danger once more.


	61. A Contract Broken

**_Chapter Sixty—“A Contract Broken”_ **

 

Interestingly enough, the first two weeks after Zoso’s resurrection were almost anti-climactic.  Although the Black Fairy had once again made her darkest servant her own, she seemed unwilling to use him in those first two weeks—but Blue should have known that Danns was just biding her time.  It was so like her sister to wait a bit, to make everyone think that she was _not_ going to commit numerous horrible atrocities.  Then, of course, Danns would act, lashing out at any she viewed as her enemies or even just at those whose deaths she thought would terrify others into submission.  Danns had long been an expert at using terror as a tool, and she had had almost a thousand years in exile to plan her revenge.

In retrospect, Blue supposed that _she_ should have planned more carefully.  She had known that the Dark Curse would be required in order to produce the new Truest Believer, so she had ensured that Baelfire was sent to the Land Without Magic, and then had quietly put the idea in Rumplestiltskin’s head.  Oh, she’d not expected him to ever be talented enough to create the curse, but she’d known that _someone_ would.  She had also not expected the then-Dark One to orchestrate events quite so expertly as he had, but it had been the demon-possessed Pan who had thrown a real wrench in her plans.  Otherwise, she would have been able to quietly take Henry’s heart (possibly with no one the wiser; some Truest Believers never realized they were missing their heart until they lived abnormally long lives), use the pathway to the Enchanted Forest only she and her most trusted fairies knew of, and place new Heart in Danns’ chest before her sister could break free.  Unfortunately, Pan’s minions had grabbed the boy almost as soon as the old Truest Believer died and the power transferred to Henry, and then the Evil Queen had suddenly decided to play hero and reverse her own curse.

Which, of course, left the Truest Believer in the Land Without Magic, and let Danns escape.  Grinding her teeth was becoming a personal habit that annoyed Blue to no end, but she was unable to stop herself.  She would rather have endured Pan’s curse than let Danns out of exile—she could have avoided it just as she had the Evil Queen’s, and then could have made certain that the Heart was put where it belonged.   But now she was stuck with what had happened, stuck in a world where her sister had resurrected a Dark One from beyond death, which was certainly the darkest of all possible dark deeds.

After the first two weeks of quiet, Zoso began killing fairies.

For a week, Blue tried to grit her teeth and teach her younger sisters to defend themselves.  Zoso was not so skilled as Rumplestiltskin had been, and he was not infallible.  He was a brute, a whirlwind of power and rage, not subtle and the fairies he targeted could often escape him.  But Zoso always came _back_ , and he was the Dark One.  That meant there was nothing short of the dagger Danns guarded so jealously that could control or kill him.  He was an unstoppable force of nature, unlike the fae whom Danns might have sent, against whom the fairies might have stood a chance.

_None of this would have happened if Rumplestiltskin were still the Dark One,_ Blue thought, gnashing her teeth again.  In some ways, having Zoso as the Dark One was an intense relief; he was not as clever, as skilled, or as manipulative.  But Rumplestiltskin would have _fought_ Danns instead of obeying her—his own connection to the Truest Believer guaranteed that, just as Blue had planned—and that would have delayed any attempts that Danns would have made to dominate their world.  That delay would have bought Blue the time to take Henry’s heart, particularly without Rumplestiltskin there to defend him.

Instead, she got Rumplestiltskin, capricious, angry, and clever as he was, as an original power.  With _Merlin’s_ power.  The one thing that Blue had unreservedly agreed with her sister on was the need to eliminate humanity’s last original power: Merlin had been a wildcard and too prone to interfering in what was properly fairy business.  For example, this conflict between them was no concern of the humans’; they were a lower species and need not meddle in the affairs of their betters.  Humanity was by nature unpredictable, and Blue would not have them tying to alter the path she had chosen for the Enchanted Forest.  They had no right to do so.

She had stopped them once and would stop them again.  Blue had orchestrated the downfall of Saint Germain and Baba Yaga, ensuring that power hungry humans turned on them and destroyed both.  She had helped her sister kill Circe, and had most certainly not interfered when Danns removed the final original human power from play.  She would not tolerate that power returning to the world—humans were too _human_ for that.  Rumplestiltskin thought that he was so clever for building an alliance of human magic users, but such things never lasted.  Sooner or later, they would turn on one another, and the entire Enchanted Forest would suffer for it.  Human ambition and human pride were two of the most constant forces in the world, and Blue was _not_ going to watch humanity become the dominant power in the world.  Nor was she going to wait for the inevitable day upon which Rumplestiltskin chose to ally himself with her sister.  Together, they could ruin everything.

That was why Blue knew what she had to do.  It was distasteful, and even dishonorable, but she was the leader of the good fairies.  Since when did an abstractly human concept such as “honor” matter to her?  What mattered most was stopping Danns.  She loved her sister, but for the greater good, Danns had to be exiled once more.  And then Blue could deal with Rumplestiltskin.  It would take time, but she knew she could turn the rest of humanity against him, and sooner or later, someone would step forward to take up the mantle King David had refused to shoulder.

But first, Henry.

 

****************

 

Some teenagers might have minded helping their future step-grandmother do research, but Henry honestly found it fascinating.  Oh, he probably wouldn’t have been so interested if it was an assignment for school back in the old world, but this wasn’t for school.  This was reading about magical history, and someday Henry intended to be one of the most knowledgeable sorcerers around.  After all, he had a huge family tradition to live up to on that front, and even if none of his parents (or grandparents) would let him start learning actual magic yet, he could start reading up on theory and history.  Or at least none of them had stopped him so far, which Henry obviously interpreted as permission.

Besides, he figured that Belle would have said something to him when he offered to help if they didn’t want him learning.  Grandpa Gold seemed to tell Belle most everything (or at least more than he told anyone else), and that meant he’d certainly have mentioned it if he didn’t want Henry reading up on these subjects.  After all, Grandpa Gold was never shy about telling you what he wanted, or manipulating you into wanting it yourself.  Henry had found that trait a little frightening in Mr. Gold when he’d been younger, but the better he got to know Rumplestiltskin, the more he admired his grandfather’s ability to move people around like they were chess pieces on seven or eight different boards.  Grandpa Gold was _smart_ , and Henry knew enough to know that brains got you further than muscles, particularly when it came to magic.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t still practicing swordsmanship with Gramps and his father, or that Regina wasn’t teaching him to ride.  Henry wanted to learn _all_ the things that a proper fairytale prince knew.  He just wanted to learn magic, too.  After all, most people weren’t lucky enough to inherit royalty on one side (or two, counting Regina) and sorcery on the other.

“You’re staring out the window again, Henry,” Belle teased him gently, jerking Henry back to the present.

“Oh.  Sorry.”  He felt his face redden slightly.  “I, uh, was just thinking.”

His grandfather’s True Love smiled.  “I can tell.  Daydreaming about your fighting lessons to distract yourself from the dusty books?”

“Not really,” Henry replied with an answering smile.  “I was actually thinking about magic.  This book”—he gestured at the heavy tome he’d been reading, _Magic in the Middle Times_ —“says that in the early days, there wasn’t much distinction between light and dark magic.  That back then, sorcerers weren’t labeled light or dark.  Everyone used both.”

“I’ve noticed that,” she confirmed, and Henry couldn’t help but notice how animated Belle was when she discussed books. She was always wonderfully nice, but he hadn’t seen this passion in her before, and it was really cool.  After all, he’d been made fun of a lot as a little kid because he liked to read, and having an adult who was as excited as him was awesome.  “Magic has changed a lot over the centuries.”

“Do you think that’s because the other original human powers died, or because the fairies liked to keep the really powerful sorcerers in check?”

Henry knew that his parents probably hadn’t wanted him to learn about Belle’s theory of why powerful human sorcerers were rare in recent years, but he’d overheard Belle, Regina, and Emma discussing it the day before and had butted right in.  Regina had been exasperated, and Emma a bit annoyed, but now he knew, and Henry had to admit that the theory made a lot of sense.  It also meant that the new Dark One might be coming after either of his moms soon, a thought Henry didn’t like one bit.

“I think it might be a combination of the two.  As the fairies, particularly Blue, rose in power after the Black Fairy’s exile, humanity seemed to adjust our view of good and evil to align with what Blue said was right,” Belle answered thoughtfully.

Henry frowned.  “That’s not right. Why does Blue get to determine what we believe?”

“To be fair to her, Blue has done many good things over the centuries.  She’s helped a lot of people,” she pointed out, but the truth behind that only made Henry’s scowl deepen.

“Only when it suits her,” he retorted.

Belle chuckled.  “You sound like your grandfather.”

“Good!”

His emphatic answer only made Belle’s laugh louder, and Henry grinned back at her.  He was so glad that she was going to be family, even if Grandma Snow being involved in the wedding planning meant it was going to take _forever_ for that to be official.  Even if he hadn’t really enjoyed being able to sit down and discuss books with someone, Henry liked Belle for herself.  She always saw the best in everyone, and was one of the nicest people he’d ever met.  Belle was nice even when she teased you, and Henry was willing to bet that she’d make a great mom someday.

Getting a second uncle or aunt who was younger than him couldn’t be any weirder than having the first one, so Henry didn’t mind that thought at all.  Now that Regina and Robin were going to get married—he was _so_ excited that his mom had asked the outlaw!—Henry was in for an adopted stepbrother, anyway.  And his other grandmother was already his adopted stepsister.  His family was already beyond weird.  At this point, another addition could only make it better.

“I’m going to go grab a book I left upstairs,” Belle said, rising gracefully and pausing to squeeze Henry’s shoulder briefly.  “You want to keep reading while I do, or go off and play with swords?”

“I’ll read.  Besides, I already had my swordfighting lesson this morning,” he grinned back.

“All right, then.”

Henry returned his attention to the book while Belle headed up to her rooms.  Once he’d gotten used to the odd writing style, _Magic in the Middle Times_ really was a fascinating read.  It told stories of famous sorcerers and even talked about a few Dark Ones, though it didn’t discuss the man who his grandfather had once killed to gain the curse.  Watching Zoso rise from that thick black ooze had been one of the more terrifying (and riveting) moments of Henry’s life.  He still didn’t quite know what to make of it, but he knew that the grownups who had lived in the Enchanted Forest before the first curse were scared.  Rumplestiltskin had at least been something of a consensual villain; he’d made deals with you and kept his own end of the bargain.  From what people were saying about Zoso, he seemed much more like a rapid animal, willing to hurt anyone he came across.

Forcing himself to focus on the page before him, Henry realized that he was fingering the gold bracelet his grandfather had given him.  Rumplestiltskin had also had Regina, Emma, and Baelfire work protective spells over him, capitalizing on a parents’ love for their child.  In fact, his grandfather had insisted that his two moms cast a few spells together (and had done the same with Emma and his dad, but those two had bickered a little less while they were at it), using their combined love for him and the natural balance in their magics to weave those protections even stronger.  Even if Zoso did come after him—which Henry was sure would happen sooner rather than later, given how the Black Fairy _still_ wanted his heart—those spells and the bracelet should protect him long enough for an adult sorcerer to show up.

“Hello, Henry,” a familiar voice said, making his head jerk up.  Without meaning to, Henry dropped the book, and it made a huge dusty _thud_ when it hit the floor.  But he didn’t notice.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out, staring at the Blue Fairy with more than a little suspicion.  She’d promised to help, but Blue hadn’t seemed really helpful at the Vault of the Dark One.

“I am sorry that it’s come to this,” Blue said softly, sweeping across the room.  She was human-sized at the moment, but still clad in that bright pastel blue dress that sparkled when you looked at it. 

“Come to what?” Henry asked nervously, standing up to back away from Blue.  He tripped over the book when he did, and had to grab onto the chair he’d vacated for balance, and that allowed the senior fairy plenty of time to close the distance between them.  Even as Henry backed up into the library wall, Blue was only an arm’s length away.

She looked pale but determined, not even wearing the motherly smile Henry was used to seeing on her.  Her features were even drawn a little, and Henry thought she looked like she was under an extraordinary amount of stress.  She certainly wasn’t happy, and wasn’t even pretending to be.  For once, the Blue Fairy didn’t seem to be trying to hide her true intentions, and before she said a word in answer to his question, Henry knew what she was there for.  His grip on the bracelet tightened nervously.

“The future of our entire world is in your hands, Henry,” Blue said earnestly.  “If I do not act now, the Enchanted Forest and _all_ other magical realms will be covered in a darkness not seen since the early ages of magic.  I am sorry, but this is the only way.”

“You want my heart.”  Henry felt cold.  Part of him was surprised by how steady his voice was, but then again, her presence wasn’t exactly a shock.  Still, he’d never expected that Blue would break the deal she’d made with his grandfather.  No one had.

“I _need_ your heart.  I am sorry, but this will be easier if you do not resist me.”

“You’re not sorry,” he shot back.  “And I’m not helping you.  Take it if you _can_.”

Blue didn’t bother to respond; magic washed over Henry without warning, so thick with fairy dust that it made him cough.  He hadn’t noticed the wand in her hand before, but now she waved it over his head, conjuring up magical restraints that kept Henry from pulling away.  But he’d known she’d do that, which was why he hadn’t shown his hand by calling the one name he _knew_ would be heard immediately.  But Henry didn’t need to call for his grandfather.  The moment that paralytic magic hit him, Henry felt the protective magic in the bracelet swirl up to meet it, and he knew that Rumplestiltskin would, too.

But Blue’s hand still shot forward, even though her face was growing increasingly pale and Henry was pretty sure he saw sweat starting to drip off of her forehead.  She looked almost like she was in pain, but her fingers still made it into his chest.  Henry gasped in shock and in pain—it hurt far worse than it had when he’d stupidly done it himself for Pan—but then he started to laugh.  Blue was powerful enough that she could burn her way through the outer layer of protective spells…but her fingers hadn’t managed to close around his heart.  Confusion tore across her face, and then frustration made her flush as Blue tried to push her hand in deeper but it wouldn’t go.  The motion sent painful vibrations through Henry’s chest, but he managed to smile anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Henry panted.  “Did you think it was going to be easy?”

“You can’t prevent me,” Blue snapped, but he could hear a hint of panic entering her voice.  “This isn’t your magic.  It’s—”

“Mine,” a third voice put in, and relief coursed through Henry as his grandfather stepped forward, his movements slow and unhurried.  Henry hadn’t seen him appear and he was fairly certain that Blue hadn’t, either, but Rumplestiltskin soft voice belied the threat behind his words: “One original power can always defend against another.  Did you really think I’d let you rip my grandson’s heart out?”

A startled cry tore out of Henry; Blue tried one last desperate time to reach his heart, and fire raced through his chest.  Breathing was hard, but the effort seemed to finally trigger the defensive spells in the bracelet he wore.  Suddenly, Blue stumbled away from him, panting and pale, glaring at Rumplestiltskin with wide eyes.

“Or, perhaps the more important question to ask, _Ruel Ghorm_ , is whatever made you think that you could break the deal we made?” he asked quietly.

“I am doing what must be done to save our world!”

“Of course you are, dear.”  Rumplestiltskin turned away from her dismissively.  “Are you all right, Henry?”

“Yeah,” Henry gulped, moving away from the wall to stand next to his grandfather as Rumplestiltskin came around the chair Henry had knocked down earlier.  “I’m okay.”

The implacably cold expression softened into a smile, and Henry thought he saw some of the fury burning in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes ease as his grandfather reached out to squeeze his shoulder.  “Good.”

By now, the Blue Fairy was all but doubled over, clutching her midsection and sweating profusely.  She looked horrible, pale and shaky, trembling as if something was eating at her from the inside out.  Surprised, Henry glanced up at Rumplestiltskin, hoping his grandfather would offer an explanation, but instead Rumplestiltskin continued to watch Blue, his face expressionless.  The senior fairy stumbled back a step, almost falling before catching herself and glowering at the former Dark One.

“What have you done?” Blue gasped.

“Nothing at all.  But I expect you knew that already.”  A slight gesture from Rumplestiltskin righted the fallen chair, and he seated himself casually, leaning back and studying the panting fairy.  After a moment, he turned to Henry.  “Henry, would you please go fetch Tinker Bell?  I believe she’s with Regina in the stables.”

“Um.  Yeah.  Sure?”  He couldn’t help looking at his grandfather in confusion.  If Rumplestiltskin hadn’t done this to Blue, who had?  Or _what_ had?  So, he hesitated for a moment, watching the silent interplay between Blue and Rumplestiltskin.

“I’m not doing what you want,” Blue snarled, all pretense at self-control fracturing even as Henry moved slowly for the door.  “Even if I die—which is by _no means_ guaranteed—the power will go where _I_ choose.  Not where you want!”

“I think we both know what’s happening to you, dearie,” Henry’s grandfather replied calmly, but there was an edge in his voice that was impossible to ignore.  “And you’re very right that I can’t dictate where your power goes.  But I think you’ll agree with me in the end.”  Brown eyes flicked left.  “Tinker Bell, Henry.  Hurry.  We don’t have much time.”

Nodding, Henry finally bolted out the door.  He wanted to see what was going to happen, but he had to trust his grandfather.  And the faster he brought Tink back, the faster Henry would get to see the rest of this play out.  So, ignoring the burn in his chest, he raced out the castle and towards the stables, hoping that Rumplestiltskin was right about Tink’s location and that they wouldn’t be too late.

 

****************

 

Blue stumbled onto a couch as Henry raced out the door, not bothering to close it behind him.  Briefly, Rumplestiltskin contemplated using magic to seal it shut so that there was no chance of anyone overhearing this conversation, but he dismissed the notion quickly.  Frankly, he didn’t care who knew about this—in fact, the more people that did, the better.  He had no qualms about letting anyone see him at his most manipulative, and well, that meant they would see Blue, too.  They would see the price to be paid.

“You broke our deal,” he said quietly as she tried to fight back the magic attempting to destroy her from the inside.

“I am only trying to do—”

“Save it for someone who cares,” Rumplestiltskin interrupted.  “You know how this works.  Your _intent_ is meaningless.  You made a magically binding agreement, a contract, if you will.  And you broke it.”

Blue glared.

“Now the only question is if it’s going to kill you or not.  All magic does come at a price.”  He smiled nastily, but managed to—mostly—quash the rising feeling of triumph.   Rumplestiltskin had faced off with this fairy for as many centuries as he had been alive.  She had been responsible for his separation from his son, and had tried to destroy him more than once.  Oh, he’d given almost as good as he’d gotten, but he would have had to have been a far better man than he was not to be feeling an immense amount of satisfaction right now.

“It’s going to kill me,” Blue admitted quietly, the fight seeming to go out of her until she looked up to glare at him once more.  “I can’t imagine you’re displeased by that.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted.  “On a personal level, no.  But I imagine that your dear sister will manage to bully Cyan quite nicely, and that does present me with a bit of a conundrum.”

“Don’t pretend you care about what happens to this world.”  Brown eyes burned with fury.  “You can fool the others, but I know you, Rumplestiltskin.  I know what you are.  You care about nothing other than yourself…and your family.”

“Ah, but I do care,” he corrected her.  “For selfish reasons if nothing else.   If Cyan gives into her, it puts me in a position I would rather not occupy.”

Blue barked out a humorless laugh, further color draining from her face.  She looked almost like a ghost, wispy and pale.  “I’m not going to pity you.”

“I’m not asking for your pity.  I’m offering you a deal.”

“A deal?”  That made her hesitate, and surprised her.  Though why it did Rumplestiltskin did not know; really, she should have expected this out of him by now.

“It’s amazing what kind of things turn up when Belle starts researching,” he replied with a wry smile.  “For example, although I can’t stop you from sending your power where you choose if you die…I can save your life.”

“How?” she coughed raggedly; Rumplestiltskin thought he saw blood before Blue wiped it away. She still had her pride.  He had to give her that.

“That’s my concern.  But I can,” Rumplestiltskin said bluntly.  “So I’ll make a deal with you—and this one you’ll _keep._ You transfer your power to Tinker Bell instead of to the Cyan Fairy.  And once you have done so, I can pull back the magic that is killing you.”

“I’ll be powerless.”  Her eyes were wide, now, and each breath a ragged grasp.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged.  “It’s either that or dead.”

He could see her thinking.  Deciding.  They both knew that Tink was stronger than Cyan, less likely to give in to even Danns' a'Bhàis.  Tink would fight any battle she believed worth fighting until the bitter end.  She was a rebel, which was why Blue didn’t like her, even if Blue had given Tink her wings back.  Cyan was like Blue: old, narrow-minded, and stubborn, but Tink was something else entirely.  She was young—younger even that Rumplestiltskin—brash, and straightforward.  And most importantly, she cared about the _people_ who lived in the Enchanted Forest, not some over-arching ‘greater good’ that meant nothing to anyone shorter lived than a fairy.

Blue didn’t like the choice; Rumplestiltskin could see that in her face.  Part of her wanted to dig her heels in and just die, transferring her power to the Cyan Fairy like she had always planned in case the worst happened.  But Rumplestiltskin could sense that his argument had actually made sense to her: Cyan was not the type who could look Danns in the eye and refuse to back down.  Cyan would try to do the same thing Blue had, would dedicate herself to getting Henry’s heart without looking at other options.  Tink, however, thought outside the box and was a damn good choice.  She wouldn’t let anyone bully her, including (and perhaps especially) Rumplestiltskin, but Rumplestiltskin could live with that. 

The real question was if Blue could live without magic or not. 

Before she could make up her mind, Henry rushed back through the door with Tink on his heels.  Regina was there, too, not unexpectedly; Rumplestiltskin had expected his former student to tag along.  Tink, however, had eyes only for Blue.

“Blue? Are you all right?” she asked as she rushed to the senior fairy’s side.  Then she twisted to look curiously at Rumplestiltskin when Blue only shook her head.  “Did you do this?”

“I didn’t need to,” he replied honestly.

Blue turned another glare on him. “Fine,” she snapped.  “You have a deal.”

“Excellent.”  Rumplestiltskin threw Tink a meaningful glance before looking back at Blue.  “Then you had best prepare your successor.  You don’t have much time.”

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who left me a note after the last chapter! It means a lot to me to know that you’re all still with me as this wild ride comes to a close. In regards to this chapter, do you think will Blue let the power go so easily, and how do you think Tink will fare as an original power? 
> 
> Next up is Chapter 61: “A Long Road,” where the Black Fairy sends Zoso after the Heart of the Truest Believer.


	62. A Long Road

**_Chapter Sixty-One—“A Long Road”_ **

 

The Blue Fairy looked surprisingly small without magic.  The day after she nearly died, the former head fairy stood between Cyan and Sage, still looking worn and run down.  It had taken most of Rumplestiltskin’s skills to heal her, and then Blue had fallen into something approaching a coma while Tink absorbed her new powers.  Tink had followed suit immediately, passing out without warning and power like she’d never even _dreamed_ of filled her.  Neither moved for the better part of the day, and Tink had barely awakened in time to see Blue off.  She wasn’t sure if Blue wanted her there—and she was quite certain that Cyan hated her more than ever—but Tink felt she should be present to see her off.  Even if she hadn’t had Blue’s powers thrust upon her, Tink would have been here.  She might have been a rebel and might have disagreed with many of Blue’s choices, but that did not mean she didn’t respect her.

She felt…different.  More awake.  More, well, everything.  It was like the world was suddenly in color rather than black and white, with every contrast greater and every color more brilliant.  The world suddenly more complete than before, even though Tink hadn’t ever realized she was missing anything. 

“Please…let me know if you need anything,” she said slowly.  Awkwardly.  Tink hadn’t asked for this, and Blue hadn’t said why she chose her.

“Thank you, Tinker Bell,” Blue said solemnly, her voice still tired.  “But I doubt you will see me again.”

“Where will you go?”

“You need not worry about me,” was the reply, and then Blue turned to look at Cyan, her gaze pausing briefly on Rumplestiltskin.  “I am ready.”

Cyan and Sage each took her by an arm, and without a further word, the Blue Fairy vanished from Tinker Bell’s life.  Once, Tink would have given almost anything to say a final goodbye to the condescending senior fairy, but now she wasn’t so sure.  Blue had refused to give her any answers at all; she hadn’t told her _why_ she’d suddenly had to hand over her power or die…and she wouldn’t say why Tink had suddenly had to inherit that power, either.  Once they’d both woken up, Blue had been particularly uncommunicative.  No matter how many questions Tink had asked, or how delicately she’d tried to phrase things, Blue hadn’t volunteered a thing.  And now she was _gone_ , just like that, and Tink never expected to see her again.

Yet if there was one thing she knew, Tink was certain that she would not have been Blue’s first choice to inherit the vast power of the head fairy.  _An original power._ I’m _an original power._   The very thought was enough to take her breath away.  But Tink couldn’t afford to dwell on that right now.  First, she needed answers.  If Blue hadn’t wanted her, and Blue wasn’t responsible…that only left one person.

Sighing, Tink turned to look at Rumplestiltskin, who had stood uncharacteristically silent during the entire farewell.  “How much of this is your doing?”

“Pretty much all of it.”  He shrugged.  “Though not the part about magic killing her.  Blue did that to herself.”

By the time Tink had arrived, things had been too far along to ask many questions; Blue had been fading fast and Rumplestiltskin, of all people, had been preparing to save her life.  Tink had little choice but to go along with things at the time, even if she was quite certain that the wily old trickster was up to something.  Now, however, she could throw him a hard look and ask: “Blue did _what_ to herself, exactly?”

She wasn’t asking out of idle curiosity, after all.  If some sort of magic could kill the most powerful of all fairies…well, Tink rather needed to know what it was, now. 

“One of the interesting things about being an original power is that your actions can affect the very nature of magic,” the human replied.  “There is a reason, after all, why so many magic users make _deals_.  Magic considers such agreements a binding contract, and magic will hold you to them.  Blue broke the deal she and I made and tried to take Henry’s heart.”

His dark eyes were unreadable; Tink imagined that Rumplestiltskin was far from unsatisfied with Blue’s near death, but he wasn’t gloating, which came as something of a surprise.  Tink took a deep breath, turning the concept over in her mind, remembering—and listening to her instincts, which were suddenly a lot more helpful where magical theory was concerned.  _I’m going to need to read a lot of books,_ she thought with a mental groan.  _I wonder if Belle has anything I can borrow._   Tink didn’t know the first thing about being an original power, and Blue was obviously unwilling to tell her anything.  That meant she was out of fairies she could ask for advice, because it wasn’t like she turn to the Black Fairy.  Not if she wanted to survive the experience.

“She bargained for her life when she made that deal,” Tink remembered, speaking slowly.  “So the magic killed her?”

“It tried to,” Rumplestiltskin corrected her with another shrug.  “I was able to stop that.”

“At the price of her magic.”  She felt her eyes narrow suspiciously, but the answer was flippant:

“All magic comes at a price.”

“Yeah, but was that one your choice or hers?” Tink pressed, knowing that the man could dance around damn near anything and needing to pin him down with a direct question.

Something twinkled in those damnably intelligent eyes.  “What do you think, dearie?”

Tink scowled.  “I think you’ve never liked Blue.”

“Neither did you.”

“I didn’t want her _dead,_ ” she shot back.  “ _You_ threatened to kill her not that long ago.”

He’d had reason, of course.  Several of them, even.  Frankly, Tink had been surprised when Rumplestiltskin hadn’t killed Blue after she’d hit him with a sleeping curse.  But Rumplestiltskin saw the future.  Did he know this would happen, or had he just been playing a longer game?  That, of course, was a question that she knew he would never answer, so Tink didn’t bother asking.  She just scowled harder at him, feeling angry and overwhelmed all at once. 

“Why me?” she demanded.  “Was I part of your price, too?”

“Because you’ll be no one’s puppet,” Rumplestiltskin addressed the concern Tink had dared not voice.  She hadn’t asked for this, but Tink wasn’t going to do anything less than her best, and she’d be damned if she’d do it at the behest of someone else.  Her life was her own, and her decisions were, too. 

“Even yours?” Tink shot back.

Her brashness made him smile.  “Particularly mine.  If I wanted your job, dear, I would have just let Ruel Ghorm die.  _Some_ original power has to do it, and that’s certainly not going to be me.”

“Gee, thanks. It’s great to know I got the job because you’re too afraid of responsibility to want it,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“I have no interest in playing the ‘original good’,” Rumplestiltskin answered with a laugh.  “You’re far better suited to it than I.”

“And I’m not likely to rip Henry’s heart out, either,” Tink continued for him, getting to the meat of the matter.

Because that was what it came down to, wasn’t it?  Left to her own devices, Blue would probably have picked Cyan, and that would have been a disaster.  Rumplestiltskin probably _would_ have killed Cyan, who was even more narrow minded than Blue had been, and that would have created an unfathomable rift between him and the rest of the fairies.  What was it that he threatened to do after that sleeping curse?  _To keep killing fairies until the power transferred to someone more reasonable,_ Tink remembered with a grimace.  Apparently she had always been the end goal there, although she wasn’t feeling particularly reasonable at the moment.

 _Humans are unpredictable, emotional, and territorial,_ Blue had said during Tink’s earliest fairy training.  _You must learn to ignore their petty concerns and focus on the greater good._   Tink had never agreed with that, which was why she had tried so hard to help Regina.  Fairies were supposed to help people, even if Blue seemed to have lost sight of that over the years.  However she’d gotten it, Tink now had the ability to fix everything that had always infuriated her about her sisters’ conduct, what they focused on, and how they viewed the world.  She certainly wasn’t going to thank Rumplestiltskin for dumping this power down upon her, but she wasn’t going to hide from it, either.  Even if she had inherited it in the middle of a war.

“I never thought you were,” Rumplestiltskin replied to her comment, and if there was the barest hint of a threat in his soft voice, Tink shrugged it off.  She’d worked with the former Dark One long enough to know what kind of man he was, and she knew what lengths he’d go to in order to protect his family. Besides, Tink _liked_ Henry, and he was Regina’s son, too.  Regina would always be one of her closest friends, no matter how awkward that friendship would get thanks to her new position, and no one was going to hurt Regina’s son while Tink was the senior fairy.

“Good,” she said brightly, blatantly ignoring the threat with a smile.  Rumplestiltskin was smart; he’d get the message.  But then she let her tone turn serious.  “So.  What are we going to do about the Black Fairy?”

“Are you sure you want to get mixed into this?” he asked, sounding curious.

“I don’t think you gave me much of choice,” Tink said bluntly.  “I’m an original power now, right?  Same as her?”

“Somewhat lacking in experience, but yes.”

The turned to face him, looking the famous deal maker straight in the eye.  “Then that’s _my_ price.  You want my help, you teach me how to deal with this.  I’ll decide what I think is right, but I don’t think that either of us has the time to waste with me figuring this out as we go along.”

“No, I don’t think we do,” he murmured, and was that a newfound respect Tink saw in Rumplestiltskin’s eyes?  She just squared her shoulders and waited until he finally said, lips curling into a satisfied smile: “We have a deal.”

“Good,” Tink said again.  “Then where do we start?”

Of course, she didn’t expect learning to be an original power to be easy.  From what Tink knew of Rumplestiltskin’s own journey on that front, it had been complicated, fraught with errors, and downright dangerous at times.  But she didn’t have time to stumble through that mess, and they both knew it.  So Tink paid careful attention to what Rumplestiltskin taught her, and read the books he and Belle both gave her, even if she really hated reading.  While the Black Fairy was able to control the Dark One—something Rumplestiltskin indicated they would be hard pressed to wrest away from her—Tink knew that their only chance of survival was to stand together.  Two original powers more than balanced out one who controlled the Dark One, so Tink worked her hardest to get caught up.

And if the other fairies didn’t quite know what to do with their new leader, who shouted down an obnoxious attempt by Cyan to take over and insisted they work with human sorcerers instead of around them, well, they got used to her.  Within a week, Tink had assigned several powerful fairies to care for each kingdom, and sent a half dozen younger fairies along with each.  She encouraged them all to learn other types of magic than just fairy magic, too; knowing that had saved her life more than once fighting the fae, and she had every intention of losing as few fairies as possible.  There was no avoiding the fact that some of them would die, particularly with the Dark One hunting them, but by sending them out in groups Tink managed to markedly decrease the death toll.  Slowly, a true alliance between humanity and the fairies began, and all the while, Tink continued to learn.

It would be a long road, she knew, but one that would benefit them all in the long run.

 

****************

 

It was inevitable, of course, that Danns would send the Dark One after Henry’s heart.  Aware of the power vacuum amongst the fairies, but not yet aware of how Tinker Bell had adroitly stepped up to fill Blue’s place, she was certainly clever enough to act while her enemies were distracted.  But her enemies were far from stupid, either, and they all knew that the Black Fairy would want Henry’s heart as insurance if nothing else.  Worst case, Rumplestiltskin knew that she would be quite happy to put it inside him once she realized that her sister was no longer a threat, thus restoring the ‘balance’ she and Blue had favored by getting the pesky original human power out of the way.  Danns wasn’t just going to decide she didn’t want the Heart of the Truest Believer on her own, after all.  No, he had to force that decision.  Or remove her from the equation entirely.

So he and Regina set the situation up between them, leaving Bae and Emma out of the process because neither one would appreciate having Henry risked this way.  Henry, of course, was quick to volunteer to help; the lad was brave and hated hiding.  Regina didn’t know what Rumplestiltskin was planning besides a chance to flatten his predecessor-cum-successor, but she didn’t need to know.  None of his allies would particularly appreciate Rumplestiltskin’s actual strategy, and he knew his family would like it even less.  But it was necessary, so when he proposed to Henry and Regina that the two of them help draw Zoso out so that he could stop the new Dark One, Rumplestiltskin kept the details to a minimum.  He wasn’t above pointing out that no one knew better how to deal with a Dark One than he did, and that, at least, Regina took at face value.  He had a pretty good idea that Regina knew he was holding back, but they had known one another too long to ask.  Regina might not like Rumplestiltskin’s methods, but she knew he would get the job done.

By the time Zoso appeared—interrupting a morning riding lesson that had strayed just a bit too far from the castle’s defenses—Rumplestiltskin was well hidden, taking advantage of the weaknesses he knew were inherent in that curse’s powers.  He had to keep his distance—even while only able to draw upon the elemental demon within the curse, Zoso _was_ extremely powerful—but Rumplestiltskin was able to see everything, so long as he augmented his vision with a little magic.

Henry’s horse dropped dead without warning, bleeding from the nostrils and eyes in a flagrant display of brutal power that Rumplestiltskin found extremely distasteful.  He didn’t really feel sorry for the horse, but killing it had been entirely unnecessary, a waste of power that served no actual purpose.  Shows of power were well and good, but there were a thousand things Zoso could have chosen to do, all of which would have taken him _less_ effort than exploding that poor horse’s brains.  Thankfully, Henry had the reflexes of a cat—something he’d definitely inherited from the maternal side of his family—and managed to jump free before the collapsing horse could fall on him.

“Henry!”  Regina bolted forward, her worry entirely unfeigned.  But she also knew that she needed to be near Henry to protect him—Rumplestiltskin was sure that he’d be able to help with that, but Regina’s primary responsibility here was to shield Henry, no matter what it took.

“I’m okay,” Henry replied, scrambling to his feet as his mother reached his side.  “But Captain is— _look out!_ ”

Regina grabbed Henry just in time, and managed to teleport them away just as a boulder-sized fireball scorched the ground right where they’d been standing a moment earlier.  The smell of burning flesh from the dead horse assaulted Rumplestiltskin’s nostrils, but he ignored that.  Regina’s seemingly unplanned move was right in accordance with the script they’d worked out, and she brought herself and Henry that much closer to Rumplestiltskin, now less than twenty feet away.  Zoso had reached out to stop her from getting far, but it had been Regina who decided where they landed; less powerful than the Dark One she might be, but Regina was certainly more talented than he.

Zoso appeared about the same distance from the pair, and Regina shoved Henry behind herself while she wheeled to face the Dark One.  Zoso licked his lips.

“The pretty dark queen.  Regina.  You’ll certainly be worth the trouble.”

Regina snorted.  “You have no idea how much trouble I’m capable of.”

“I’m looking forward to finding out,” Zoso replied, his eyes hungry again.  They swept over Regina like she was a piece of very appetizing meat, and Rumplestiltskin saw the rage blossoming in her eyes.   Regina, however, could take care of herself, and Rumplestiltskin had a trap to finish lying out.

“You’ve really got issues, you know that?” she retorted, buying him still more time. 

Zoso laughed, but then sobered quickly.  “Give me the boy, and you can live.”  His smile was wolfish.  “Perhaps you’ll even learn to enjoy yourself.”

“With you?  In your dreams.”

Rumplestiltskin smiled to himself, still concealed behind the best method of camouflage—a set of thick trees and bushes that kept Zoso from spotting him.  Not that Zoso seemed that careful; Rumplestiltskin couldn’t sense him looking around, couldn’t see any magic working to ensure that they were alone.  Was he really that overconfident?  It was hard to believe, but then again, Rumplestiltskin remembered what life in the Frontlands had been like when Zoso was the Dark One.  There hadn’t been a soul willing to offer him resistance; the only check on his power had been the duke who held the dagger.  But Zoso had always easily overcome any of the mere peasants who had even dreamed of resisting him.  What need had he for caution?

“I don’t mind if you don’t,” Zoso reassured Regina, stepping forward as a storm of magic gathered around him. 

Regina’s defenses came up right away, but the resulting punch of magic still slammed her back several steps.  It hit Henry, too, although Regina managed to shield him from the worst of it.  Because of that, the blow sent her straight to her knees, and Rumplestiltskin could hear her sharp hiss of pain echoing across the grass.  Still, her hands came up immediately land Regina’s retaliatory attack slammed into Zoso, obviously hitting him harder than he had expected and making the Dark One shake his head dizzily and stumble briefly.  But then Zoso’s playful expression turned angry, and he raised a hand to point at Regina.

“You will pay for that, bitch.”

“Oh, do you not like prey that fights back?” Regina taunted him, grinning as she came to her feet.  “I thought you were looking forward to how much trouble I am.”

Zoso growled, sounding much like an infuriated wolf, hungry and certain he had his prey cornered.  Shaking off the effects of Regina’s attack, he stalked forward.  Looking at Henry.

“Come here, boy,” he rumbled.  “My mistress desires your heart, and your heart she shall have.”

“No,” Henry said, his voice surprisingly unwavering for a boy of not yet fourteen.  He was unbelievably strong and amazingly brave, but his eyes still flicked to Rumplestiltskin expectantly.  He had stepped out of hiding once Zoso had hit Regina, but the Dark One hadn’t noticed him.  Instead, Zoso frowned at Henry:

“What are you staring at, boy?” the Dark One demanded.

Henry scowled at him. “I have a name, you know.”

“And he’s looking at me, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin interjected before Zoso could decide to harm Henry, reaching deep within his own magic to begin winding it around Zoso, quietly and subtly, keeping the power levels too low to be noticed but slowly ratcheting up the amount of magic currently under his control. 

Use his grandson as bait though he might, Rumplestiltskin was _not_ going to allow Henry to be hurt.  Not while he breathed.

Zoso whirled to face Rumplestiltskin, his eyes widening in surprise.  “You again.  The cowardly spinner.”

“Me again.”  Rumplestiltskin let his eyebrows dance and gave Zoso a hard-edged smile.  “Though I’m afraid that I’m not _quite_ what you remember.”

“You were there when she resurrected me,” Zoso hissed, and now he advanced on Rumplestiltskin, his posture screaming danger. 

“I was.”  He shrugged.  “It wasn’t exactly the evening’s entertainment I would have chosen, but yes, I was there.  And now you’re threatening my grandson.”

“That worthless boy of yours reproduced?”

The words were designed to sting and were accompanied by a harsh laugh, and Rumplestiltskin felt his temper automatically rise in response.  Had he still been under the curse—or centuries’ younger and far more vulnerable to manipulation—Rumplestiltskin wasn’t sure he would have been able to control himself.  He would have done something foolish, just like he’d been goaded into killing Zoso so many years before.  Now, however, things were different.  No matter how much anger Zoso’s dig ignited within him, Rumplestiltskin knew _he_ had the advantage here.  No matter what Zoso said, his words were only wind.  Rumplestiltskin had far greater power at his disposal than any Dark One had ever dreamed of, and he knew how to use it.

So, he cocked his head at his predecessor and smiled.  “Are you _trying_ to provoke me, Zoso?”

“I remember your foolish temper,” was the soft response.  “And how easily led you were.”  Zoso stepped forward to stand right in front of Rumplestiltskin, his eyes dark with rage.  Meanwhile, Regina pulled Henry further away, but— _Damn her!_ —didn’t teleport away like they had planned.  “But tell me.  How _did_ you escape the curse, spinner?  Here I am, the Dark One in all my glory, and you are simply…human.”

Zoso pushed a dismissive hand against Rumplestiltskin’s chest, probably hoping to shove him off balance.  The blow did land, backed by magic as it was; Rumplestiltskin had always been slender, several inches shorter than Zoso and significantly outweighed by the other man.  He stumbled back a step but caught himself, watching surprise flicker across Zoso’s face.  Did he remember Rumplestiltskin’s old injury, the way he’d been unable to walk unassisted?  Or was he simply that confident?  Either way, he did clearly did not expect the sudden surge of magic that raced out of Rumplestiltskin, a half-conscious response to the obvious thread the Dark One posed.  Zoso jerked his hand back as if burnt, and Rumplestiltskin chuckled.

“Oh, yes.  I am simply human.  But I don’t lack power, dear, and you’re trying to deliver my grandson’s heart to my enemy.  So”—his hands came up, glowing purple with power—“I’m going to make you regret that.”

The spell raced outwards before Zoso could speak, striking him high in the chest and then moving upwards, rearing high into the sky until it came down again, slamming into Zoso’s head and hammering him down to his knees.  Roaring with fury, Zoso came up fast, sheer darkness erupting out of him and speeding towards Rumplestiltskin.  He waved it aside with a flick of his wrist, all the while wondering if such an attack was typical of Zoso.  Rumplestiltskin had seen him use brute force over finesse three times now, and maybe that was just the type of Dark One he was.  Some of his predecessors had been more talented with magic than others, he knew.  In fact, Rumplestiltskin remembered how, in the early days, the voice of his curse would whisper in his mind, would tell him how to use raw power to accomplish his desires.  Had Rumplestiltskin not spent centuries studying magic, he would forever have been reliant upon his curse to tell him what to do.  Was Zoso _still_ that dependent?

 _If he is, that means this will be even easier_.  Rumplestiltskin supposed that thought might be considered overconfident, but he’d danced the dance of death with another original power recently.  Comparatively speaking, sparring with the Dark One seemed relatively minor. 

“You can’t possibly match me, and you know that,” Zoso snarled, throwing another wave of power his way, and this one was potent enough that it took Rumplestiltskin rather more power to push it aside, and then a quick tug of the right threads to dismantle the magic when it came back at him again. 

“Do you think I can’t?” he asked, keeping his voice soft and his smile constant.  Rumplestiltskin cocked his head at Zoso, continuing to weave an ever-constricting web around the Dark One.  He was almost finished, almost ready to snap everything into place.  All he had to do was keep Zoso talking for another minute or two, and then it wouldn’t matter where Zoso went or how much power he used to shake off the net Rumplestiltskin had woven around him.  Or how much magic Zoso was trying to send in Henry’s direction, quietly battling Regina’s protections to draw the boy to him when he finally did teleport away.

“I know what I am, and I know what _you_ are.  Power or not, you’re not the Dark One, spinner, and that means you’re _weak._ ”  Zoso stepped forward once more.  “Though I’ll admit that I’m curious how you came to be free of the curse.”

“I tried to kill myself,” Rumplestiltskin answered blunt honestly.  “And apparently, when you die to save others with no thought of your own survival, it can save your life.  But”—he shrugged again—“our curse wasn’t built to withstand a sacrifice borne out of love.”

Zoso snorted.  “Dark Ones are not meant to _love_.”

“I know.”

His first and second webs of magic finished at the same time, and Zoso jerked back as they tightened around him, wide eyes staring at Rumplestiltskin as the curse told him exactly what his opponent had done.  The first net was to keep him from successfully attacking anyone, while the second served to provide the equivalent of a tracker that would let Rumplestiltskin follow him, no matter where he teleported to.  Zoso twisted wildly, power spewing out of him in a rainbow of sparks.  He fought against the invisible cage surrounding him, his magic bouncing off and rebounding on him.  Pouring more and more power into his struggle, Zoso’s exertion only strengthened the web holding him, and finally the Dark One screamed in fury and pain.  He continued to fight against the web for several additional moments before going still, glaring at Rumplestiltskin.

“What do you want?” he snarled.

“Firstly, for you to stop trying to harm my grandson.  He’ll not be teleporting with you, by the way.”

“You can’t stop her from taking it.  No matter how much power you’ve gathered, you can’t stop her.”  A slightly queasy look passed over Zoso’s face, as if he had tried to fight Danns and now knew better.  “She’s too powerful.”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled.  “Just ask her what happened when we last fought.  It wasn’t pretty.”

But that fight had taught Rumplestiltskin something important.  It had taught him why Danns had not tried to kill Merlin; instead, she had forced a horrible curse inside him and gave herself the means to _control_ him.  Rumplestiltskin had not been able to kill her, and she had not been able to kill him.  That meant something—something important.  _I meant to use him as a means to kill her, to transverse power through the curse, using her connection to it as a means to destroy her, but that won’t work, will it?_   A chill tore down Rumplestiltskin’s spine.  His plan was doomed to failure, and that burned.

He couldn’t kill her.  Oh, he _could_ —theoretically, just as she _could_ kill him—but doing so might very well bring down disaster upon the Enchanted Forest.  Not that he cared, but he ought to.  And he knew instinctively that the kind of disaster killing Danns would herald would not be one that even Rumplestiltskin could withstand unscathed, nor one his family might survive at all.  But he wanted to kill her so damn desperately.  Try to be better though Rumplestiltskin might, Danns had tortured him for a year (not to mention the odd other time she’d held him where she’d recreated the worst of his injuries), and he wanted revenge.  He hated her in ways that he hadn’t known he could hate anyone…even if he did understand her far too well.  But he couldn’t kill her. 

 _Time to move on to plan B, then,_ he thought with resignation.  But then, he’d always half expected to go down that path, anyway.  It was the one he knew no one in his very tangled family would like, the one he’d known he’d resort to if push came to shove.  It was very much more Rumplestiltskin’s style, deal making and manipulation.  Epic battles of immense power had never been his forte.  No, his secondary plan, the one he’d laid the pieces for already, was far more typical of Rumplestiltskin.  So he smiled at Zoso when the Dark One looked at him incredulously.

“In fact, you’re about to get that chance.  Take me to Danns.  _Now._ ”

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you yet again for the wonderful comments! We’ve got one chapter and an epilogue yet, so stick around for the wild ride that is Chapter 62: “Brave New World”, where Rumplestiltskin faces off with the Black Fairy one last time, Emma and Baelfire find out about Rumplestiltskin using Henry as bait, and a deal is struck.
> 
> In the meantime, tell me what you think Rumplestiltskin has planned for the Black Fairy!
> 
> Also...if you're interested, please check out my new multi-chapter AU, "Freeze on the Stones", in which Cora casts the curse and nothing goes according to plan.


	63. Brave New World

**_Chapter Sixty-Two—“Brave New World”_ **

 

“So,” Rumplestiltskin said as he and Zoso teleported into the fae lands that Danns still used as her base of operations, finding themselves deep in an emerald green forest.  “Your pet obliviously failed to take my grandson’s heart, nor did he manage to entice me into killing him and taking on your darling curse once more.  And I decided to pay you a visit.”

They’d appeared right in front of her, just as Rumplestiltskin had expected they would.  Zoso, of course, would want to drop him in close, right where the Black Fairy could destroy him immediately, but if Rumplestiltskin played his cards right, a fight would not be in the offing.  He’d prepared for this, anyway.  For her part, Danns showed no surprise to see him; she simply extended her arms at waist level, power swirling around her, ready to strike.  The Black Fairy smiled, hazel eyes shining.

“Rumplestiltskin.  I was not expecting you so soon.”

“I bet you weren’t.”  He smiled wolfishly.  “But I’m not here to fight, dear, so there’s no need to get worked up.  I’m just here to talk.”

Her eyebrows went up.  “Oh, are you now?”

“Somehow, I doubt that surprises you.  Unless, of course, you care to have another world-altering battle, Danns?”

That starburst had been a warning.  They could try that again, could try to destroy one another and possibly take the world down with them…or they could come to a different accommodation.  Much though the siren song of vengeance still burned within him, Rumplestiltskin knew that the later was a better option, and Danns clearly did, too.  Otherwise, she would never have walked away after that last battle of theirs’.  _Given that she’s been doing this a lot longer than I, that’s hardly a surprise._ Still, her smile faltered slightly, and her eyes narrowed. 

“I’m still deciding,” the Black Fairy answered his question, clearly not enjoying the fact that the human understood the stakes as well as she did.

Suddenly, Rumplestiltskin felt the power build from behind him, sensed Zoso trying to break out of the trap that still held him and attack the impertinent human who dared to annoy the Black Fairy so.  Oh, Zoso didn’t like his new mistress at all, but he was canny enough to garner favor from her by attacking Rumplestiltskin, particularly when she seemed so displeased.  But the trap held, and Rumplestiltskin turned a nasty smile on his one-time torturer:

“Do tell your pet to stay out of this, will you?”

“And here I thought you would be more charitable towards a Dark One than that,” she purred, clearly caring little for Zoso’s plight.  “What _have_ you done to him?”

She could see well enough the magic he’d woven around Zoso, and could also break it easily enough, so Rumplestiltskin just shrugged.  “I’ve never felt particularly charitable towards fools.”

“Enough, Zoso,” Danns said without even looking at her Dark One.  But his struggles ceased immediately, even though she did not have the dagger in her hand.  She was the Black Fairy.  She did not need to _hold_ the dagger, and that thought was enough to send a chill down Rumplestiltskin’s spine that he tried to hide.  Being controlled, body and soul, by that woman would be terrifying.  “What _did_ you want to talk about?  Or did you simply wish to put yourself back in my hands again?  Did you miss me?”

“Hardly,” he snorted.  “But obviously, we need to have a chat, lest we destroy the world between us.”

“What care do I have for the world?” Now it was her turn to shrug.

“You can’t exactly rule something you’ve destroyed,” he countered, and watched her face quirk into a smile again.

“Then submit to the curse, and the world will be safe.”

Rumplestiltskin laughed.  “I don’t think so, dearie.  I’ve something better in mind.”

 

****************

 

“That was so awesome!” Henry gushed as he and Regina sat down for lunch, and she felt a smile tug at her lips even though the mother in her really didn’t like the fact that her nearly-fourteen year old thought battles between dark sorcerers were ‘cool’ as opposed to terrifying.

“Sweetie, even if it _was_ interesting to watch, you need to remember that getting tangled up in stuff like that is dangerous,” she reminded him.

Henry’s smile, of course, never wavered.  How _had_ she managed to raise such an optimistic child?  Henry was the very center of Regina’s world, but part of her would never understand this boy who had such a strong hold on her heart.  Regina supposed that came from the way her originally good heart had been darkened by her own actions; simple optimism and faith in others were hard for her, now, even when she tried to be better.  And she _was_ better, in so many ways; she was fighting on the side of the angels and doing the right thing.  Regina finally felt worthy of Henry’s love, even if she didn’t always understand him.

“I knew you and Grandpa Gold would protect me, just like you said you would,” her boy replied sunnily.

“Protect you from what, bud?”  Baelfire asked as he and Emma walked in together.  Part of Regina still balked at sharing her son with those two— _she_ had raised him when they couldn’t be bothered—but most of her had accepted Henry’s birth parents as part of his life.  Henry had love enough for all of them, but it was thinking on that which made Regina miss the giant sinkhole of trouble her son’s answer opened up beneath them.

“Zoso,” Henry replied around a mouth full of turkey.  “Grandpa needed to trap him, and since we all knew he was coming after me anyway, I said I could help.”

“And he _let_ you?” Emma echoed incredulously.

“Yup.    Mom kept me safe while Grandpa dealt with Zoso.”

“I bet he did,” Baelfire put in darkly, and in that moment, his anger reminded Regina very vividly of his father, particularly when he turned those burning eyes on her.  “It was Pop’s idea, too wasn’t it?”

Regina wasn’t the type to be bullied, and if Bae had put a little more hostility in his voice, she probably would have responded in kind.  But as it was, she wanted to keep the peace for Henry’s sake…so she took a deep breath before answering:

“Yes.  But Henry is fine, and it was better that we controlled the situation than not.   The Black Fairy was bound to send Zoso after Henry, so we made sure that we could stop him when he did.”

“But setting up a situation where he’d come after Henry.”  Bae’s flat tone made it anything but a question.

“I’m _fine_ , Dad,” Henry interjected, trying to help.  Regina wished he wouldn’t.

“That’s not the point,” Emma snapped. “The point is that Rumplestiltskin set this up without telling us.”

“Mom—”

“You knew,” Emma overrode their son, whirling on Regina.  Face set in fury, she demanded:  “Why didn’t he tell us?”

It was all Regina could do not to roll her eyes, and even then, she barely managed.  “I didn’t know he hadn’t, but I presume it was because you’d react just like this.”

Of course, Regina had very carefully _not_ asked if Rumplestiltskin had told his son and daughter-in-law what he had planned.  Regina knew Rumple far too well, and she knew he liked to play his cards close.  Of _course_ he hadn’t told them.  Rumple wasn’t the type to share easily, and besides, those two would have insisted on coming along and only gotten in Regina’s way.  Emma was progressing well enough in her studies, but she still wasn’t ready to face a full-blown Dark One, and Baelfire was nowhere near close to ready for that.  Regina had been hard-pressed to deflect Zoso’s attacks, and even she wouldn’t have wanted to bring that down upon herself without Rumplestiltskin there to back her up.  Or with Henry’s birth parents there to get in the way or mess things up.

“You’re damn right we would!” Emma burst out, and her husband laying a hand on her arm didn’t seem to quell her anger much.

Baelfire, on the other hand, spoke quietly, his voice eerily reminiscent of Rumplestiltskin in his worst temper: “It’s not Regina’s fault, Emma.”

“I think I’m going to punch your father,” the Savior growled.

“Be my guest,” Bae replied with a sigh, and Regina had to snort.  _Now that I would like to see!_

“It’s no one’s fault!” Henry cut in forcefully, and again, Regina sometimes wished her beloved son knew when to stop arguing.  “I _volunteered_.  I wanted to help, and I’m sick of hiding.  Don’t blame Grandpa for letting me help.”

“Henry, you’re just a child—” Emma started, which only made their shared child jump to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table.

“I’m almost fourteen, _Mom_ ,” he snapped.  “And I know what’s at stake.  I’m old enough to make decisions for myself, you know, even if you don’t trust me to.”

“It’s not that we don’t trust you, Henry.  It’s just that we know how dangerous Zoso is,” Bae tried to answer teenage angst with logic, which Regina knew was _never_ a good idea. 

“And I don’t?” Henry shot back.

“We’re still your parents,” Emma dug herself in deeper while Regina sat back and stayed out of this.  She really didn’t want to bail those two out of their own parenting messes.  That _wasn’t_ her responsibility.  “And we just want you to be safe.”

“I bet Grandpa didn’t ask you because he knew you’d say no.  Wouldn’t you?”

“Of course we would have!”

“Then you don’t trust me,” Henry replied bluntly, his face stony and hurt.  In the end, it was his wounded expression that made Regina speak up; she so wasn’t doing this because she cared about Snow’s daughter or Rumple’s son.

“Sweetie, it isn’t about trust,” she said quietly, placing a hand on his arm that made Henry turn to look at her.  “The hardest part about being a parent is knowing when to let your child take risks.  I know that I struggle with that all the time, not because I don’t trust you…but because I’m your mom.”

Just like that, Henry’s anger seemed to deflate.  He asked softly: “Then why did you let me when they’re so mad about it?”

“Because I could be there to protect you,” Regina replied honestly, squeezing his arm.  “We all _know_ you’re growing up, Henry.  But it’s still hard to accept.”

“Gramps and Grandma Snow let Mom do whatever she wants,” the teen groused rebelliously.

“That’s because I’m their age, kid.  They can’t stop me,” Emma snorted with laughter, briefly meeting Regina’s eyes.  Much to Regina’s surprise, there was gratitude there, along with a lot of relief.

“I wish I was your age,” Henry grumbled.

“Trust me, bud, you don’t,” Bae replied with a lopsided smile.  “If anyone was in a hurry to grow up, it was me, but there’s good parts about being a kid.  You’ll miss them when you grow up.”

“That’s what everyone always says, and I think you’re kind of stupid,” was the emphatic reply, and Regina had to bite back a laugh.  Yes, Henry was a teenager and prone to emotional outbursts sometimes, but he was still _Henry_ , and that was what counted.  Still, she shouldn’t let him get away with calling anyone stupid.

“Henry!” all three of his parents chided him together, and with that, lunch returned to normal.

Not that Rumplestiltskin wasn’t going to get an earful from his son when he got back from his applying his “solution” to the Black Fairy problem, but Regina figured he was a big boy.  Rumple could handle himself.

 

****************

 

Danns cocked her head at him.  “Are you going to try some clever way of killing me?” she asked perceptively.  “You have the power to come here at any time, despite the safeguards my people put in place.  Our battle linked our powers, however temporarily.  You didn’t need Zoso to bring you here.  But you can’t turn him against me, no matter how well you know that curse.  Was that what you were planning?”

 The last guess was accompanied by a dismissive wave of one porcelain-white hand, and Rumplestiltskin didn’t like how close to home her conjecture fell.  Oh, he’d not thought he could make Zoso kill Danns, but his original intention _had_ been to use the strong connection between the Black Fairy and the curse to sneak in a spell that would at least incapacitate her.  Now he was rather glad that he’d discarded that notion; if Danns could guess what he’d intended, that meant the idea was doubly doomed to failure.  Apparently his instincts had been right all along.  Rumplestiltskin would have to tackle this problem with his mind, not through sheer power.

“Hardly,” he replied as if he’d never thought of doing that.  “In fact, I came to propose a deal.”

“A deal?” Danns perked up, clearly curious despite herself.  “And what could you _possibly_ have that I want?”

“The Heart of the Truest Believer,” Rumplestiltskin replied bluntly, just to see what she’d say.

“And you are willing to sacrifice your beloved grandson’s heart, are you?  After fighting so long to keep him safe?  I’m disappointed.”

“Don’t be.  I’m offering nothing of the sort.  I’m offering peace.”

“Peace?” she scoffed.  “I’m not interested in peace.”

“I think you will be, once you hear me out.”  A mysterious smile played over his lips, one that had worked a hundred times before.  Thousands of years old though Danns' a'Bhàis might be, she was still susceptible to the most basic methods of manipulation: make an offer she couldn’t refuse, and she would accept it even if her instincts told her not to.  But first Rumplestiltskin had to make her _want_ it.

“And what is that?” the Black Fairy demanded.

“Me,” he dropped the bombshell.  “Merlin’s power, tied to the curse, just as you always wanted.”

She shrugged, feigning disinterest.  “I already have a Dark One.”

Rumplestiltskin leaned in close, his smile sharp and predatory as he met her dangerous hazel eyes.  “But I’m the one you want.”

“You would offer yourself?” Danns’ expression grew hard.  “I doubt that.  I know you better than that by now, Rumplestiltskin.”

“Oh, the offer’s conditional, dear,” he replied with a flippant shrug that was designed to hide the butterflies rolling in his stomach.  “And you’ll only get me under a very specific set of circumstances.”

“Such as?”  He had her attention now; her eyes were a little wider and her breath a bit shorter.  Yes, she was interested. 

“I want you—and _all_ of your followers, along with anyone who might in any capacity seek or be forced to serve you—to stop going after Henry’s heart.  You leave that Heart where it belongs, let him live out a normal life.  We both know that it’ll probably be centuries before another Truest Believer is born, so you’ll have your freedom,” Rumplestiltskin said.  “You can have your war with the fairies.  You can even have your pet here.”  He gestured dismissively at Zoso.  “But you stop hunting my grandson’s heart.”

“In exchange for what?” Danns sounded skeptical, but she knew how the game was played.  “I’m hardly going to let my dear sister, or anyone else, take the Heart so that _they_ can control _me_.”

“Of course you’re not.  And I’ll make sure they don’t.”  Rumplestiltskin met her eyes, devoutly grateful that Danns did not yet know how Tink had taken Blue’s place.  “If I fail in that… _then_ you can have me.  Without resistance.  I’ll kill your pet and you’ll have me as the Dark One.”

“Willingly?” Danns asked, and it was a loaded enough question that Rumplestiltskin twitched slightly, unable to keep himself from shuddering.

“Provided I have your word that my family will be safe, yes,” he replied bluntly.  None of the aforementioned family would like this, but in order to make a deal, you had to have something the other side wanted.  His soul was the best bargaining chip Rumplestiltskin possessed, and if things went according to plan, he would never have to go through with this.

A slow smile blossomed on the Black Fairy’s face, and Danns reached out a hand to touch his cheek, stepping in even closer.  Rumplestiltskin caught her wrist as he yanked away, her touch bringing back too many memories of pain and terror, and he saw victory spark briefly in her eyes.  “It is amazing,” she mused softly, “what you will do for love of your family.”

“Do we have a deal?” Rumplestiltskin pressed, needing to be away from her, not liking being this close to the woman who had scarred him so badly.  But he wouldn’t give ground, not yet.  He couldn’t afford to show that weakness.

Danns studied him for a long moment, cocking her head contemplatively as her hazel eyes seemed to read his very soul.  But that was the crux of this proposition: Rumplestiltskin never broke a deal, and he meant every word he had said.  Deceive and manipulate though he might, he was always good to his word, and if someone _did_ get the Heart of the Truest Believer and intend to put it in Danns, Rumplestiltskin would keep his promise.  With no small amount of terror, but he would keep it.

“Very well,” she said slowly.  “I will refrain from claiming the Heart.  In exchange, if anyone else should take it, you will become mine.  Forever.”

Rumplestiltskin could feel the magic sliding into place, could feel the power behind the words Danns had spoken and the proposal he had made.  They both knew how to manipulate the very nature of magic, and although this agreement was a victory for neither of them, both walked away with what they wanted most.  Danns wanted her freedom above all else…and Rumplestiltskin wanted his family to be safe.

“Agreed.”  The word was clipped; the _power_ clicked into place.  There would be no breaking their deal now.

_And heaven help me if I fail._

 

****************

 

“Are you all right, Rumple?”

Belle had finally found her love up in one of the higher towers of Snow and Charming’s castle.  His back was to her as he stared blankly out the open window, obviously not seeing the suddenly beautiful day that stretched out before them.  The weather was strange; in early afternoon, it had looked likely to storm wildly, but the clouds had suddenly cleared and now there were birds singing everywhere.  Belle could feel the subtle difference in the world itself, as if a great weight had been lifted from the Enchanted Forest and life could suddenly go on.  She knew in her heart that Rumplestiltskin was responsible for that; Belle had known he was going to deal with the Black Fairy that morning, and although he had been vague as to what he intended to do, he _had_ told her that he was going to make a deal with the Black Fairy to ensure Henry’s safety.  Whatever he’d proposed, it obviously must have worked.  Here he was, safe and sound, and the world seemed just a little bit lighter.

“Rumple?” she asked again, touching his arm and making him jump.

“Belle,” he breathed, turning to face her.  “I’m sorry.  I was…thinking.”

“Clearly.”  Squeezing his arm, Belle smiled up at him, not understanding why he was suddenly melancholy but knowing she could usually cheer that out of him. “I take it things went well?”

“Well enough.  She’ll not come after Henry’s heart again, anyway, and that’s what counts.  Danns is still alive, but…with Tink on our side, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

“I’m glad.”  Belle leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.  “And you’re all right?”

That finally made him smile wanly.  “And I’m all right.”

“Good.  Now, I’m going to guess you haven’t eaten, have you?”  Belle was terribly curious to know how Rumple had convinced the Black Fairy to stay away from Henry’s heart, but she knew that she needed to draw him out of his shell first.  Sometimes, her fiancé required careful handling, and this seemed to be one of those days.  First, she figured that she would get some food in him—given that it was dinner time, and she was sure he’d skipped lunch—and then she’d work on him a little.  He would tell her what it was he’d proposed eventually—and if it was what Belle feared, she understood why Rumplestiltskin might be reluctant to say it.  He feared her reaction, but Belle admired his courage too much to be angry with him.

“No.  I guess I forgot.”

“Typical,” she teased him, grabbing his hand.  “You can be the most powerful sorcerer in the world, but you’d waste away if I wasn’t here to remind you to eat.  Come on.”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t resist when Belle pulled him down the stairs, nor did he argue when she led him towards the family dining room instead of towards their own rooms.  Usually, Rumplestiltskin preferred to eat in private—he still wasn’t all that good at being social, even if he was trying to be better around family—but Belle was determined to bring him down to the others.  She knew that everyone else was already down there, and that they were all worried about Henry.  Everyone needed to know that Rumplestiltskin had managed to secure Henry’s safety, and it would go much better if he told them tonight instead of leaving them to figure it out like he was wont to do.

“Really, sweetheart?” he asked softly as she opened the door.

“It’s only family, Rumple,” Belle reminded him, giving him the smile that she knew he couldn’t say no to.

“Of course,” he grumbled, but Belle could see a little less resistance in his eyes than their once would have been. 

They walked through the doors together, still hand in hand, and Belle was glad to see that none of the others seemed surprised by Rumplestiltskin’s presence.  They were all growing used to him, used to this convoluted and large family that they were all a part of.  Once, Snow and Charming might have been less happy to share the dinner table with the former Dark One, but now they accepted him as Henry’s other grandfather and their own daughter’s father-in-law.  Emma and Bae marrying seemed to have overcome any lingering awkwardness, and David threw the pair of them a welcoming smile as they walked in.

Rumplestiltskin pulled her chair out for her—oddly enough, he’d always been a gentleman, even in the depths of his former curse—but froze as his son spoke up icily:

“Glad to see you’re back, Pop.  Thought you might have run off after using Henry as bait.”

Twisting in her chair, Belle turned to stare up at Rumplestiltskin, whose wide-eyed expression very much resembled that of a deer caught in the headlights.  “Rumple?”

“Dad!” Henry snapped.  “I thought we went _through_ this.”

“Not now, Henry,” Emma shushed her child, and Belle thought she saw Regina sighing out of the corner of her eye as the Charmings sat straight up in alarm.

That interaction, however, seemed to give Rumplestiltskin time to catch his balance, and he quirked a wry smile.  “Ah.  I see that you heard.”

“Heard?  I more than heard.  You put Henry in danger so that you could pull whatever trick you wanted to pull,” Bae snapped.  “I thought you’d changed.  I thought you said family was _important_.”

Rumplestiltskin’s expression had cycled out of controlled and back to shocked, and now he looked stricken.  “It is, Bae,” he said softly.

“Then how come you put _my_ son in danger without even _talking_ to me?” Belle could hear the hurt in Bae’s voice, and she tried to reach across the table to put a hand on his, but he yanked away.

“Bae…” she started.

“No,” Bae snapped.  “You don’t get to defend him.  This time he gets to defend himself.”

Again, Belle turned to Rumplestiltskin.  Knowing what must have thrown him off-kilter like this, she grabbed his hand, squeezing it and hoping to give him strength.  No, he shouldn’t have endangered Henry, but what he had _also_ done was equally important, and Rumplestiltskin needed to say that.  He was particularly vulnerable to attacks from those closest to him, Belle had always understood, and facing such hostility from his beloved son only turned an already unsettling day upside down.

“Henry was never in any danger,” Rumplestiltskin started, but from the way Bae scowled, Belle knew it was the wrong tact to take.  “If Zoso even—”

“That’s not the point,” Bae cut his father off harshly.  “The point is that you didn’t even _talk_ to us.  You just went off and did whatever it was you were going to do, dangling Henry in front of the _Dark One_ like some sort of prize to be snapped up.  And for what?  What _did_ you talk to the Black Fairy about, anyway?”

“And what do you _think_ I was doing, Baelfire?” Rumplestiltskin demanded, and Belle could see his own temper rising to meet the one his son had inherited from him.  When wounded, Rumple tended to lash out, because he didn’t always know how to deal with someone who could hurt him so badly and it was the only way he knew to protect himself.  “Do you suddenly think that I decided to embrace evil once more, that you can’t trust me to protect my family?”

“I think we all might need a moment to calm down,” Snow cut in hurriedly, trying to play peacemaker, but only making the problem worse.  Belle knew that Baelfire loved his father as much as Rumple loved him, but saying that the two of them had issues in the past was like saying water was a little bit wet.  She’d thought they moved past this, and they had, but endangering Henry had clearly hit a nerve.  They trusted one another, they really did, but it seemed that Bae had inherited his father’s paternal overprotectiveness as much as he’d inherited his temper.

“I don’t need to calm down.  I need to know what my father was doing,” Bae snapped at his mother-in-law, coming to his feet to face Rumplestiltskin.  “And to answer your question, _Papa_ , I know you and power.  I know what it does to you.”

Rumplestiltskin reared back as if struck, and Belle could feel the tremor run through him.  He yanked his hand from hers as his voice turned sharp and sarcastic, a slight and cold wind whipping up in the room.  “Yes, because even in the depths of my former curse, I didn’t learnto overcome that.  I chose power over family once, and we both paid the price.  Have I given you _any_ indication that I would do so again?”

“I think you just did, yeah.”  Bae sounded as sad as he did angry, but it was Rumplestiltskin’s face that Belle was watching as the blow landed.  His son’s response made him go stark white, stiff as a board.  His carefully blank expression was utterly devastated.

“If that’s how you feel, then I won’t burden you with my presence.”

Belle knew he was going to do it before Rumplestiltskin even turned away, and she jumped to her feet to catch him before he even made it three steps towards the door.  Luckily, he was too emotional to think of teleporting, otherwise there was no way she’d have resolved this short of giving them both time.  As it was, Belle managed to grab his arm and intercept him, tugging hard until he stopped.

“Rumple,” she whispered.  “Tell him why you went to see the Black Fairy.  Tell him what you did.  It’ll help him understand.”

He looked at her, all pain and confusion and heartbreak.  Belle knew what he was thinking, about how he’d nearly died to save his family, how he’d made that sacrifice despite his curse wanting to stop him, and how high of a price he’d paid because he refused to give in afterwards.  Rumplestiltskin wasn’t a brave man by nature, and he’d _tried_ to be brave for his family, and now he felt like that was being thrown in his face by the son whom he would give up everything for without blinking an eye.  Belle slipped her hand into his again, squeezing gently.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t guess, did you?  I know you, Rumple, and I love you.  So does Bae.”  Belle felt him shake slightly, but the wind in the room seemed to ease as he reined his emotions in.  “Trust him.  Trust all of us?”

Slowly, Rumplestiltskin let out a breath.  “You will never cease to amaze me,” he whispered.

“Good.”  She quirked a smile, her heart still hammering worriedly in her chest, and then tugged him around to face the others even as Bae spoke up again, sounding a little less certain:

“What does she mean, tell me what you did?”

“I had to prove to Danns that she couldn’t use Zoso to get Henry,” Rumplestiltskin explained, his voice still clipped and his defenses on high.  “Otherwise, she would never have agreed to the deal I offered her.  It worked.  She accepted.  The Black Fairy will not attempt to take Henry’s heart again.  Ever.”

“She did?” David burst out, looking both hopeful and shocked at the same time.  Snow had the same expression on her face, and even Emma’s fury seemed to have dimmed.  Regina looked pleased but not terribly surprised, and Henry just looked grateful that everyone had stopped shouting.

“Yes.”

Baelfire, however, clearly knew his father too well.  “At what price?” he asked cautiously.

“It’s of no matter,” Rumplestiltskin replied, and Belle glared at him.  He ignored her—quite willfully, she was sure—and continued:  “Nothing that will harm any of you.  Or Henry, of course.”

That seemed enough to alleviate most everyone’s worries, but not quite.

“Papa, what did you do?” Bae whispered.

“Rumple, please.”  Belle knew Rumplestiltskin well enough to know that he was going to change the subject, to refuse to tell them and bury the truth as far as he could.  He’d twist words, throw up a smoke screen, and do anything to avoid giving a straight answer.  But Baelfire needed to hear it…and so did everyone else.

“It’s nothing—” he started.

“You offered yourself, didn’t you?” Belle cut him off gently, knowing it was true.  _And he still calls himself a coward._   She wished Rumple could see in himself what she saw, instead of looking away from her as if he was angry or ashamed of what he had done.

“You _what_?” Bae echoed, even as Henry added:

“Grandpa, you _can’t_!”

Rumplestiltskin sighed.  “It’s nothing quite so dramatic as that.  In order to reach an accommodation, both parties each must possess something the other desires.  Danns will refrain from taking Henry’s heart or letting any of her creatures do the same.  In exchange, I will prevent anyone else from doing so, thus preserving her freedom.  If I fail, then she gets what she wants.”

“Which is you,” Emma spoke up when no one else would.

“As the Dark One, yes.”

Baelfire came around the table to stand in front of his father, moving like a man who wasn’t quite sure if his legs would work through his shock.  His brown eyes were bigger than Belle had ever seen them, confused and full of raging emotions.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to stop me,” Rumplestiltskin answered simply.

“I—”

“It’s what had to be done.  Nothing more.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Bae said, his voice very small, and Belle stepped out of the way to allow the two men to embrace.

“I know, son,” Rumplestiltskin whispered into his son’s hair, and suddenly they were holding tightly to one another.  “So am I.”

****************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up – the epilogue, in which we get a wedding, the future, and a few random surprises. While you’re waiting for the end, please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, if you haven’t checked out my new AU, “Freeze on the Stones,” please do!


	64. Epilogue: Home

**_Epilogue—“Home”_ **

 

The next few months were a period of transition for the Enchanted Forest.  Slowly, people became used to the presence of the fae in the world once more, and slowly, the fae stopped targeting as many humans while their war with their “cousins” continued, albeit at a slower pace.  Oh, they still captured humans quite regularly, but the fairies freed almost as many as were taken, and Tinker Bell slowly became a household name.  She wasn’t the distant force for “good” that the Blue Fairy had been, so majestic and aloof that few dared approach her.  No, Tink was much more down-to-earth, accessible, and always ready to lend a helping hand.  It didn’t pay to ask for help if you didn’t truly need it—Tink made short work of anyone who tried to abuse her generosity—but usually she just _helped._

Rumors said that the Blue Fairy had retreated to a cave in the mountains, had been absorbed by the heavens, or even that she had finally made peace with her sister.  Wherever she had actually gone, Rumplestiltskin never saw her again.  Nor did he hear of even a reliable sighting.  Blue seemed to have vanished into thin air, refusing to help her successor but not hindering her, either.  Given the many years Blue had fought doggedly to preserve her chosen way of the world, Rumplestiltskin figured that was the best they would get out of her.

Regina announced her engagement to Robin Hood—newly re-created Earl of Locksley by an obliging King Midas, whose kingdom had absorbed Nottingham and Sherwood Forest when no heir to the dead Prince John could be found.  Midas’ late wife had been John’s sister, and Robin proclaimed his approval of the new king quite publically, which helped bring a lot of people around.  Soon, little Roland was calling Regina “Mama,” and Rumplestiltskin pretended not to notice how that turned his student/enemy/friend/almost-family-member into a puddle of goo every time the lad did so.  He even allowed Belle to talk him into preparing a suitable wedding gift for the pair when the time came, as sort of an apology for that incident where he’d nearly flayed the outlaw alive.  Sort of.

Emma and Baelfire split their time equally between their own adventures, her parents’ (many) castles and the Dark Castle.  Sometimes they brought Henry along, and other times they sent him to Regina or even Rumplestiltskin and Belle.  He found his grandson’s presence strangely refreshing, even if it meant dragging the lad—and Belle!—out of the library when the two of them often got a little _too_ engrossed in books.  Rumplestiltskin liked reading more than most, but Henry seemed to be absorbing Belle’s love for the written word, and if the two of them laughed at him from time to time for the way he complained about being ignored, well, that was what family did.  Rumplestiltskin was slowly getting used to this odd family of his; once he had thought he’d be fortunate if he ever saw his son again, so sometimes the energetic group he’d wound up with left him breathless.

Henry, of course, still wanted his grandpa to teach him magic, and Rumplestiltskin finally broke down and promised to start once Henry was fifteen.  The lad had the makings of good if not extraordinary sorcerer, although he’d probably lean a bit too much towards the hero side of the family to be properly objective. 

Snow and Charming continued their on-again, off-again fight with Emma over who their heir would be; by the time Emma announced her second pregnancy—much to Rumplestiltskin’s delight, Henry’s shock, and Baelfire’s never-ending nervous joy—they still hadn’t quite ironed things out.  Still, there was time yet, and if Emma flat-out refused to take the throne, she had a younger brother and a son who would both prove capable as time moved on.  Snow helpfully pointed out that Emma’s second child could always inherit if Henry was stuck on being a sorcerer, and Rumplestiltskin barely resisted the urge to tell them that their second shared grandchild would be still more magical than the first.

True Love, after all, had to be fought for.  It didn’t always show up right away, and sometimes even its recipients were slow to admit that it was there.  When Emma finally scraped up the guts to ask him why she was feeling a power surge every time she kissed her husband, Rumplestiltskin just offered her a bottle and told her how to make the potion.  With Emma, there was no other way to convince her.

The rest of the Enchanted Forest eventually settled down into the new world the original powers had carved out between them.  The new King Philip took over his kingdom and the one belonging to his infant son, somehow making peace with his difficult mother-in-law along the way.  Ariel and Eric went on a tour of several worlds and reported that other realms were settling down nicely; somehow, they made friends with a newly-freed Jafar, who had talked the Lady of the Lake into accompanying the three of them.  That made for a fascinatingly odd travel party, particularly when they adopted Maleficent’s old apprentice, Aladdin.  Jafar taught the boy for a while, until Aladdin caught the eye of the new Sultan’s daughter when they were in Agrabah.  Several disjointed adventures later, Aladdin became a prince-by-marriage, and Princess Jasmine joined that group as they travelled.

Regina didn’t move into Maleficent’s castle, despite claiming that she got along better with Snow at a distance.  Instead, she gave it to Tinker Bell, deciding that Tink had been Maleficent’s heir in every way that mattered.  Tink, in turn, stationed fairies at the no longer Forbidden Fortress, placing them inside the world they protected and making them easy to find.

Hook, surprisingly enough, showed up at the Dark Castle one afternoon with Ruby on his arm, having dragged her off onto several piratical adventures that the young werewolf loved.  Belle had invited them—of course—and they spent a surprisingly enjoyable time there while Rumplestiltskin learned to bury the hatchet with his ex-wife’s old lover without sticking it into the pirate’s skull.  It probably helped that Ruby was one of Belle’s closest friends, and Belle would never have forgiven him if he’d done so, but perhaps it really did mean Rumplestiltskin was mellowing with age.

Two months after that, however, the Dark Castle swarmed with people.  Guests had begun arriving as much as a week before the wedding, while Snow and Charming—the later not nearly so excited as the former—had arrived a full month earlier, with Emma in tow.  Bae had been less grouchy than his eight month pregnant wife, who’d found teleporting made her vomit and riding in carriages was even worse.  Rumplestiltskin had known that he’d regret allowing Snow White to plan his wedding, but he’d told himself repeatedly that if it made Belle happy, he could deal with it.  Now, when the day finally dawned, he was fondly remembering his days of ripping out hearts and crushing them when people annoyed him. Or turning people into snails.  That would have also been a relief.

He was fairly certain that the Dark Castle had never been so _decorated_ , even for Prince Graham’s christening.  There were flowers everywhere—he expected that Sir Maurice had a hand in that one, because Belle _did_ love flowers—and guests galore.  Rumplestiltskin had been allowed enough input into the guest list to make sure the allies he actually valued (some of them were not what he would call friends) were invited.  He had also overrode all of the objections and invited the Black Fairy, knowing that sending Danns an invitation was the only way to keep her from wrecking mischief on his wedding.  Had he not, she would have undoubtedly tried to stick everyone into some never-ending dance or another, or just sent Zoso in her stead.  Rumplestiltskin very consciously did _not_ invite his predecessor, and reminded Danns not to bring him, either, a proviso he was glad to see that she obeyed.  Plenty of other people he didn’t really like also showed up, though, which would have served to put his teeth on edge were this not such a happy day.  Snow had billed this wedding as a final acknowledgement of the end of the war, however, so Rumplestiltskin bit his tongue and managed not to point out that it was _his_ wedding.  And Belle’s, of course.

All of his frustration paled, however, when he caught sight of Belle standing at the end of the isle.  She was wearing a flowing white dress of silk and lace that he hadn’t been allowed to see, but the smile she turned on him made Rumplestiltskin forget all about the dress and the jewels.  Even though he’d _tried_ to sneak a look, only to find that his damn daughter-in-law had enchanted it so that when Rumplestiltskin looked at the dress, it looked like a sack made out of dead frogs.  (Emma’s sense of humor would always leave something to be desired, but it grew on Rumplestiltskin slowly.  Very slowly).  Belle, however, was too beautiful for words.

Somehow, he made it down the aisle to take her hands in his own, and somehow Rumplestiltskin managed not to shake too hard when he did.  He had proposed to Belle almost nine months ago.  Since then, he had been put under a sleeping curse, had battled to the death (or nearly so) with the Black Fairy, watched his predecessor—who still hated him—resurrected, and then ended a war in a manner that really did deny an absolute victory to either side.  Never mind the many years of struggle before that—losing one another, finding one another, supposed deaths and time spent apart.  They were stronger together, and today they could at least make that official.

He hardly heard a word the cricket said, was lost in a swirl of happiness so great that it almost hurt, until Belle began to say her vows, glowing with happiness:

“Rumplestiltskin, this thing we have, it's never been easy.  I've lost you so many times. I've lost you to darkness, to lies, and finally, I thought I lost you to death.  But now I realize, I realize that I have not spent my life losing you.  I've spent my life _finding_ you."

Her hands were so warm in his, and her smile so infectious, that Rumplestiltskin found himself answering a bit more honestly than he had planned, speaking from the heart instead of his carefully prepared script.  “Belle…when we met, I wasn't just unloved, and unloving; I was an enemy of love.  Love had only brought me pain.  My walls were up, but you broke them down.  You brought me home.  You brought light to my life and chased away all the darkness.  And I vow to you:  I will never forget the distance between what I was and what I am. I owe more to you than I can ever say.  How you could ever see the man behind the monster I was, I will never know.”

“That monster's gone,” she replied, her eyes shining.  “Your curse is broken.  The man I know now may be flawed, but we all are.  And I love you for it.  Sometimes the best book has the dustiest jacket. And sometimes the best teacup is chipped.”

He might have said something else, or might have wanted to, but emotion welled up so strongly within him that Rumplestiltskin was at a loss for words.  So, he just took Belle in his arms and kissed her, not caring about the hundreds of guests Snow had talked them into inviting, not caring about Sir Maurice standing not far away, and certainly not caring who might say what about them in the long run.  Magic surged through him, True Love singing in his mind and Rumplestiltskin had never felt so complete.  Belle already wore his ring, and now they were _married_.  Forever.

_“It’s forever, dearie,” he told her, bouncing up and down with a little glee.  The little lady didn’t want to go along with him, but Rumplestiltskin had Seen enough to know she would be important.  Best to keep an eye on her, and if she was miserable, who cared?_

_Yet she was so brave, facing him down.  Even then, even with the imp whispering its worst in his mind, Rumplestiltskin admired that.  Belle’s chin came up.  “My family, my friends... they will all live?”_

_Usually, this was the point where he said something flippant about everyone dying eventually and how that wasn’t his fault, but she was so serious that he replied solemnly: “You have my word.”_

_“Then you have mine.  I will go with you.  Forever.”_

Who would have thought that this was where they would wind up?  The Dark One and the girl who made such a terrible maid.  The former monster and the woman who had seen beyond the mask he tried to show everyone, who had answered his loneliness with light and with love.  She was his better half, Belle was, the one thing that made him complete.  Seer though Rumplestiltskin might be, he had never expected this.  Had he even an inkling of what she would come to mean to him back in the beginning, he might have run away from her.

But now he knew better.  Now he could never even dream of doing so, not when Belle was smiling at him like that and the world seemed so perfect, even if just for a moment.

“I love you,” Rumplestiltskin whispered, running his fingers down her face and watching Belle shiver with glee.

“I love you, too,” she replied with a dazzling smile, before leaning in to steal another kiss. 

Rumplestiltskin complied eagerly, feeling the warmth of love and power stealing through his bones, and inhaling the soft scent of the woman he loved.  But Belle didn’t pull away when her lips left his, instead going up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear:

“I’m pregnant,” Belle said, and his world stopped moving.  “Regina helped me confirm it his morning.  I think our children are going to be about the same age.”

A part of Rumplestiltskin’s mind focused on the second part of that wondrous sentence before it comprehended the first, and all he could think about was the trouble those two would get in together.  He’d known Regina was with child (the former Evil Queen hadn’t exactly kept it a secret; she was too happy to think of hiding the fact), but a child of his and a child of Regina’s— _Wait.  A child?_

“You’re what?” he finally managed to say, the words finally sinking in.

“Pregnant.  Just barely,” Belle confirmed, her blue eyes shining.

“Oh, _Belle_.” 

Other words escaped him, and Rumplestiltskin pulled her close to kiss her once more, trying to communicate his joy and his love for her—for them both!—without being able to articulate a complete sentence.  At the moment, he wasn’t even sure that he could spell his own name, let alone string together coherent thoughts on the matter.  Belle kissed him back, and he held her close for a long moment before sweeping her off her feet and twirling her around.

Their laughter echoed across the great hall together, and if the guests thought he was mad, Rumplestiltskin no longer cared.  His visions from a year earlier came to mind once more, fresh and strong, and he _knew_.  There would be challenges to come, but this child of theirs was a miracle of sorts.  They had both lost one another so many times, only to find one another again, traveling weaving and winding roads that finally brought them together to this one perfect moment.  Rumplestiltskin couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so free to be happy as he did now, and they would face whatever came together.

 

****************

 

Their daughter was born just nine days after Regina bore her own daughter, and they would indeed grow close, sometimes despite their collective parents’ best efforts to make them befriend others.  Gabrielle, named after Belle’s mother, quickly grew into a bouncing, laughing bundle of brown-haired joy, having inherited her father’s eyes and her mother’s indomitable smile.  She was never bothered by the fact that her niece Mary was only eight months older than her, or that her best friend Raven was also her nephew’s adopted sister.  She had her father wrapped around her little finger from moment one, and Rumplestiltskin joyfully spoiled her—and his grandchildren—rotten. 

Over the years, a few misguided heroes sought the Heart of the Truest Believer, thinking that they could be lucky enough to somehow force it inside the Black Fairy and thus remove her “taint” from the world.  Rumplestiltskin stopped one group, Emma and Baelfire made mincemeat of another, and Henry finally helped Regina put an end to the foolish questers on his eighteenth birthday, at which point everyone had to acknowledge that the Truest Believer was indeed a sorcerer of note.  Sometime after that, he conspired with his royal grandfather to take the succession issue out of Emma’s hands, and soon Prince Henry was acknowledged as the combined heir of Queen Snow and King David.  Needless to say, Emma and Bae were relieved.  Even if they would not have wished such a burden on their son, Henry was more than prepared to take it on.  He was indeed more prince than sorcerer, in the end, and when he came to the throne, he ruled well.

Gabrielle and Raven became the true sorceresses in the family, competing and combining with one another to preform feats that left all of their parents reeling.  Eventually, it was Gabrielle whom Rumplestiltskin chose to bequeath his powers to.  After his curse had broken, he had expected to grow old like any other human, but instead found another price of being an original power.  He was able to extend Belle’s life easily enough, and the pair of them outlived all of their contemporaries, but eventually, it was time to let go.  One year to the day after Belle’s death, Rumplestiltskin handed over his powers to his now-grown daughter and left to join his True Love.

**FINIS.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it. Wow, it’s been a ride. Thank you so much to all the amazing readers who have stuck with me through this story – it was my first ‘Once’ fanfiction, and I never imagined it growing so huge, or getting such a wonderful response.
> 
> If you enjoyed “Original Powers”, please check out my new story Freeze on the Stones, where Cora casts the curse and changes fate. It features Rumbelle, OutlawQueen (eventually), and some other surprise appearances by characters who were not in Regina’s Storybrooke. 
> 
> Thank you again!


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